In the thick of woods....contemplating life

What is my baby doing?

2011-10-21T12:21:00.001+05:30

Alert: This is a 'Rant' post though I wouldn't really call it that. Make it a 'shout-out' to the universe to make things right. Yep, that seems just about right. 'Shouting out to the universe to make things Right' post this is. And please do not ask me about this or refer to this happenstance you meet or talk to me anytime. For you, this is one of those posts you just read and forget in the big wild jungle of blogs while for me this is one of the posts that I will wish sometime in the future that I had not posted but hey today I don't feel that so here goes.

So I've returned to work now. It's easy but its also getting tougher as the hours passby and I don't get an update on how my baby is doing. I feel so cheated by the entire thing. What's wrong in me checking up every hour? What's wrong in me asking for every small detail? After all this is just the second day I am leaving her in 15 months and it feels like I 'forgot' something essential at home. Everytime I look at the clock, I wonder what she is doing? Has she had her morning milk? Has she been bathed? Is she taking her first nap of the day? Is she still coughing as she was when she woke up when I left home? To a mom who has watched her child EVERY waking minute in the past five and odd months, isn't it but normal to worry about how her baby is doing in someone else' care? Admiteddly that someone might care for her just as much as me but hey this is my second day away from her and I am sorry but I just can't trust another person to care for her like I have/would have done so. Yes, things might be happening differently, she might take a longer nap, refuse to be put down, take half an hour to finish a bottle vis-a-vis the five minute gulp down she does with me BUT I want to know it. AND I want to wonder aloud, YES ALOUD, IN YOUR FACE ALOUD, and ask the caretaker WHY. It doesn't mean I am doubting the caretaker's ability to take care but simply I have the need to ask WHY. Withholding this information from me and not allowing me to know what my baby is doing at any given point in time when I am away from her feels so wrong to me.

My chest gets heavy and my head starts to ache as every minute passes without a sign of a message, call or email about her. And I can't call or do any of it myself lest I anger the caretaker and that affects how my baby is taken care. Tears roll down my cheeks without worrying that I am surrounded by a hundred or so people in the open office. I want to be home taking care of my baby. Going for hours together without food under a hot roof soothing a fussy child or controlling the urge to pee for endless mintues to just have one more 'minute' with the baby and successfully have her take a nap is far more preferable to me than sitting in a perfectly airconditioned room with endless 'me' time ahead. This is all so so wrong. And all because I need to work. All because I need to provide for the future comforts 'we' have planned. All freaking because I made some decisions in life that I shouldn't have. But it all doesn't matter now. Right now. I just wish one thing. I just wish someone would tell me what my baby is doing now.

Edited to add: So I overreacted but I am not going to delete it :)) Blame it on the hormones!

Neighbor, neighbor stop yapping at the door!

2011-07-27T11:41:00.000+05:30

Neighbor, neighbor stop yapping at the door!
I have two hungry mouths to feed
Two dirty (not really!) bodies to clean
One of which is stranded in the middle of the bath
When I came to answer your call!
Yes, your Tupperware looks good not cos I love costly plastic
But I have a thing for red!
And um no I don’t do Oriflame…or Amway much either
Unless of course the one selling is my sister!
Oh, I know your hubby is in the LIC
But I have too many policies already while the SO has none
And no, you can’t sell to him no!
What, did I hear you right? MLM? Mega losers of the month, is it?
No, thank you no LMM for me…I mean MLM…whatever!
And thank you now, very much indeed, but I HAVE to go
What? Yes, I will let you know when I change my mind
Yes, LIC, MLM, A$$ I shall remember them all
Oh, isn’t that your cooker blowing? No?
It must be mine then though the house remains ominously quiet
Except of course for your babbling mouth…and mine!
Now please yes I just MUST go and attend to that kid
Oh, sure I will let you know when ever I change my mind
Didn’t I just tell you that?
No? You must be ‘I-need-hear-ten-times-before-I-really-hear-it’ kinda person
So okay I will knock on your door if I change my mind
BTW, hear that thunderous noise from the bath? Must be my kid
I SHOULD go now you know….What? New offers? Sure, sure
Yes, YES I will let you know if I ever change my mind though that’s now unlikely
Now scoot loudmouth before I knock your head!

Help me fight for my cause?

2011-03-15T17:13:00.003+05:30

As you may know, I volunteer to coordinate Twestival India in my free time and help raise funds for charities. Before you let that put you off, no it’s not just for folks on Twitter. Twestival is an offline event organized to fundraise for chosen charities on a single day synchronously across the globe. And I am really happy and proud to be associated with it as it gives my life a little purpose (I always did fancy the image of that centaur riding into the sun fighting for a cause :P ). To know more about Twestival, click to read my other blog here.

Donate here

Now, I seek your support to help me fight for my cause :) I’ve set myself a goal of raising Rs. 5 lakhs through Twestival India this year before the 27th of March – both through online donations as well as our offline events across Indian cities on 24th March.

Can you help me achieve this mission?

Multiple ways to contribute:

1.   Simply donate online through GiveIndia. All our charities are legal, registered and authentic. Please click here to donate. You can give as little as Rs.110 but I do hope you will be generous and give a bit more :)

2.   Buy a Ticket and attend our event. 100% of your ticket money will go as donations to the charity. If you happen to be in Bangalore, Chennai, Cochin, Delhi, Hyderabad, Kolkata, Mumbai, Pune, or Pilani, you can take part in the festivities and have fun while giving. Check http://india.twestival.com for ticket details.

3.   Like city logos on Facebook and help win $1000 additional grant for our NGOs. Click here to donate a Facebook minute (Last day for contest is 17th March)

4.   Spread the word – Forward this post to friends, family and colleagues

Be generous and be happy! Reaching 5 lakhs is not too difficult if I have your support, right?

The empty spaces

2010-12-29T12:11:00.007+05:30

In the last three or four odd months when I sat at home dwindling my thumbs after quitting a great job (great because of the people, the team, and the culture) on a mere whim (just because one fine day I thought I had to), I’ve become quite familiar with the empty space. I started with liking it in the first few days because it gave me time to just be, then slowly disliking it (because of the boredom that crept in), then outright resenting it (because it drained me of all the energy and motivation I thought I had had to create things), then opposing it (by looking for another job!) and then slowly, ever so slowly accepting it and finally just surrendering to it.

This cycle took me almost two months to pass and by the time November rolled in, I was ready to do nothing. I mean literally nothing in life. All the lofty ideas and thoughts I had just a few months back, of making a difference by joining a nonprofit, of becoming an entrepreneur, of freelancing full time, just vanished into thin air. However much I tried to force myself to think, to think back to those highly motivated times, I came back to the empty space. I just didn’t have the enthusiasm anymore….for anything. One could call it depression but I beg to differ. I am not capable of being depressed. I was not unhappy at all the last two months. Quite the opposite. I was in this sublime state of existence that is neither sadness nor joy. I let each day pass and did all the things routine life demanded of me. I ignored the computer and the Internet. I ignored the phone when friends and family rang at times. I sat staring into nothing for minutes together and sometimes hours. I didn’t want to write, I didn’t want to craft, I didn’t want to read. I ignored it all. I just ceased to care.

Then I got into thinking.

Just because I went into non-existence in the constant chatter that is this universe, it doesn’t mean life won’t go on, right? I mean other than the few mails, tweets, and messages here and there, people went on with their lives and so did I. Least importance be to the brand of me that I had built up. Let it crumble. I don’t have an ego to care.

And I wondered. Why all the busyness then? Why all the pretext of a purpose then? Is purpose all that important as I used to think? Why the stress, why the hurry, why the rush, and why the timetable? Why oh why the to-do lists? If you drop them all one day, perhaps the effect will haunt you for a week but post that? The universe is going to realign and put something else, somebody else in your place to continue the game. So why play the game?

Why can’t I just let the empty space consume me?

For the sake of the lofty thoughts, dreams, and wishes I had once cultivated, maybe I will be born again. But this lifetime? No, this is just for being me. No self-expectation, no goals, no wanting to go places. And the best thing of all? I didn’t feel bad at all thinking all this. When I examined my armor, there was not a single dent or scratch that is my self-esteem. I was as confident as ever. As confident as ever of being me. I didn’t need to be ‘some one’ to feel good about myself.

On an aside, for each of us who are doing something – whether you are employed with a great company, whether you are working for something or somebody’s welfare, or whether you are just proud being self-employed to satisfy whatever motivates you – take that role away for a minute. Take away the title, take away the role, take away that identity. Meet a stranger in your head and see how you will introduce yourself. Remember you are no more that employee, employer or do-gooder. You are…..just you with no prefix or suffix or taglines. Describe then what you do to that stranger. See how you feel.

Now coming back where we left off before the aside…

I’m not saying I became enlightened. I am saying I decided that enlightenment is not as great as I thought it to be. And I realized the one thing, the one single reason that I think I am here in this life. It is to discover myself. It is to be in this empty space, devoid of definitions and still being happy enough not to affect other’s happiness around you. It is being in a state of nothingness yet carrying on as usual as if there’s nothing going on inside you (which is true!) so that the others around you are free to slip in and out of their own empty space without having to worry about you.

Perhaps I sound confused. Perhaps I am self-contradicting. Perhaps it’s all a temporary phase of madness (considering that I got back to that ‘busy life’ that gives you the purpose of catching a cab every morning lest you miss it and all the troubles that follows assails you).

Whatever.

But the one thing I do want to leave you with – “Take the time to step back from life once in a while, the empty space can do you a great deal of good.” :)

And of course this post by Ollin which inspired me to write about the empty space I befriended in my own life.

"Surrender” by Ollin, Courage to create

“You know what empty space I’m talking about, right? The empty space that comes between the end of one phase, and the beginning of another? That empty space...

If we are not busy talking to someone, we’re texting. If we’re not texting, we’re twittering. If we’re not twittering, we’re facebooking. If we’re not facebooking we’re watching TV, or listening to music, or surfing the web, or watching YouTube, or working, or exercising, or reading and if we’re not doing any of those, we try to frantically search for the next thing to do that will fill in the empty space in between one thing and the next.

We are desperate to fill in every silence, every piece of stillness, with something–something we deem more desirable, more worthy than that stillness. Something we think is more important and urgent than that damning quiet underneath everything–that damning quiet that always exists. That quiet that starts to drives us crazy when we first notice it, in those brief moments when we accidentally drop our guard, and all the clamor we worked so hard to create dies down. ....”

Just be!

Oh, those giant stars!

2010-12-24T19:56:00.000+05:30

When your daughter hums jingle bells everyday for over a week, you know Christmas and the holiday cheer is here. Her school is celebrating Christmas today and she is totally excited about the Jingle (The tree as she calls it!) and the small gift boxes they have placed underneath it. Seeing her so worked up over this festival that invariably seems to bring a smile to everyone’s face (either because they believe in it or they are just plain happy with the holidays), I can’t help but feel all happy myself. Thinking about it in the fuzzy state between sleep and wakefulness this morning, I suddenly remembered a time when I used to be equally if not more excited over Christmas.

It must be almost two decades back. I was this quiet kid who always observed the things outside and then lived them inside her head. And my sanctuary was the beautiful, if a little unkempt, garden full of Gooseberry, Lemon and Badam trees behind my house. It used to be my very own ‘secret garden’ though I didn’t read that until much later. I also loved visiting my granny’s place that was really far away (meaning you have to take a bus!) because she used to always listen to all our demands. We all liked her a lot because she never hesitated to sacrifice half of her one litre milk to make sweets for us kids. And of course, I associate the holiday season with this subconscious memory of happy times because that’s when we used to visit her more often.

Amongst all these nice memories are ones of Asha aunty. She was my granny’s exotic Anglo Indian neighbor who wore gowns and made cakes at home. And she used to put up these giant Stars outside her door and light them up every evening. Oh, did they look utterly pretty to my eyes or what? When I became a little older, I decided to drudge my courage and ask my mom for my very own giant star to hang outside our house when I learnt “that’s for Christmas” (and unsaid in that “which is not for us”). I was greatly disappointed. How can anyone not celebrate this beautiful festival where you get to hang stars in your house? And those yummy cakes that Asha aunty used to spare us kids sometimes….how can my mom not know how to make them? I was crestfallen!

So when I became a wee bit older and the next Christmas season came along (when people started hanging stars), I knew what I had to do. Just because my parents don’t celebrate the star festival doesn’t mean I can’t. And just because they can’t buy me those stars, it’s no reason to not make one (or many) of my own, right?

So off I went to my garden one day with my homework notebook to make quick use of its till then useless papers. I cut out over 10 small stars and hung them on the low branches of the Badam tree with my thatha’s binding thread. I then ran back to my mom and begged her to buy me some cake from the nearby bakery. After a few hours, armed with a delicious smelling plum cake and accompanied by a small hoard of friends I had invited to ‘celebrate’ with me, I went to the garden looking for my mini giant stars. Ha! there they were ….so pretty even if I say so myself. I puzzled over the fact that I won’t be able to light them up but quickly forgot the worry when one of the other kids nudged and pointed towards the cake.

So what next? I had the cake and I had the stars. But how does one celebrate Christmas? Growing up in an orthodox Hindu family, the only common way I knew to ‘celebrate’ festivals is to make sweets (in this case buy), and then by way of a pooja offer it to the gods after which the prasad (the offerings) is distributed to all the family gathered around. So I took my cake, cut it into little bitable pieces, took some water in a tumbler and after closing my eyes for a few moments to mutter some ‘mantras’, I ‘offered’ it to my stars! (Water is usually sprinkled over the Prasad before offering to God to ‘cleanse’ them symbolically in Hindu households) And within a few moments of that, the cake vanished into the hungry mouths of all the kids sitting under the watchful eyes of the stars. My Christmas wish was complete. I didn’t need a santa!

Thinking back now, I marvel at the industriousness of that quiet kid who made her own Christmas stars and shared her plum cake. Grow up to today! If there’s no one around, there won’t be a crumble of the plum cake left for anyone! The giant lighted stars don’t look so great anymore too but am happy I thought of them so once.

Ha! This is indeed a special time of the year, isn’t it?

Wisdom on the bench!

2010-10-05T19:23:00.002+05:30

It’s been a month. What was once crystal clear has now become as hazy as puddles disturbed by running feet. I look back and wonder about the confidence that has since vanished. I sit at parks, alone on benches that have no backs, and worry about my aching spine. I swat at mosquitoes that are as big as the bees that I tend to religiously every morning over at my farm. I look at the kids playing around me and as clichéd as it may sound envy their simple joys. What has happened? Why on this sweet earth did I decide to return to a state of chaos?

The other day… Replace the mighty mosquitoes with the noise of traffic, playing children with shopping adults. In the middle of a busy complex, I sit on a bench again, this time with no worries about the back. I am trying to pass sometime, waiting for someone that is taking their time. I worry how I might look to passersby. I worry about my worry and wonder when my worries have become as simple as they are now. Everyone seems to be with someone – arguing couples, languishing thathas on their evening walks, or moms & daughters out to buy something. How did I end up here? Alone on a bench in the middle of the week worrying about silly things? I desperately reach for my cell phone and call a friend from another town. Unfortunately, or fortunately for her, she is not sitting on a bench. Unable to just sit and keep worrying about appearances, I abandon my prime slot to a lady with kids who’s been trying to inch her way to get more space. As I move away, I hear her sigh of relief as she finally gets to spread her wares, and kids, all over the bench.

Fast forward to present day. The mosquitoes are not letting me sit in peace. I try to distract myself by thinking of days past. I recollect sweet memories of sitting on benches that are very similar to these ones a couple of years back. I wasn’t alone then. And I was always holding hands with the father of my progeny! The most pestering thing in my mind those days was how to ensure I eat home cooked food every day. But I am not sure if he had the same thing on his mind! Ha, romance has a way of making your life look rosy and all you worry about are stealing some time together and the next restaurant you must frequent. I wonder about the romance now and all I can think of are new M&Bs that I must buy to pass lazy hot afternoons on foam beds that radiate heat like it’s their birthright. I think back a little more and remember days spent sitting on benches at the beach with my best friend. What on earth did we talk that made sitting on those hard benches for hours and hours together worthwhile? I can’t quiet recall but I do remember we had the best times of our youth on those benches by the sea.

Before I know it, I am all nostalgic. I take out my notebook and pen from the handbag that I carry at all times. I start to write. I wouldn’t have gotten past more than a few sentences before I sense a lady wandering close by. From the corner of my eyes, I see her missile like gaze zeroing in on the empty space next to me. Before I know it, she is sitting on the other corner and chewing her way to glory on salted sweet corn. I look up, trying to appear startled, when a dozen or so kids appear out of nowhere with their mouths wide open. She coos to them and feed them the corn. My mouth waters and I force myself to look away. I was never the one to like corn too much anyway.

I wonder idly why I don’t look intimidating to her. I would have liked to have the entire bench to myself this evening. In fact, that’s exactly one of the reasons I had armed myself with a notebook and pen – to ward off well-meaning lonely strangers out for a conversation. I don’t talk to strangers very well. Why, I don’t even talk to myself these days very well! I think back of all the benches that I had ever sat on and try to remember if I have ever had to worry about warding off company. No, I was always with someone, male or female and that used to be intimidating enough to scare off the best of voyeurs. Whereas now that am alone, funnily enough, I am always surrounded by so much company on these benches. Let me have you know that contemplating wisdom on a bench is very very hard if you don’t have that entire bench to yourself. Especially, if you are always distracted by loud conversations, wafting aromas, and big mosquitoes.

Oh well, wisdom is hard to come by in a state of chaos, yes?

A Saturday morning totally well-spent - Startup Saturday Bangalore on “Social Entrepreneurship”

2010-09-15T09:34:00.002+05:30

Originally posted at the HeadStart! Network blog.

Many of us entrepreneurs and aspiring entrepreneurs have frequently thought about how we can make a difference to the society we live in while at the same time improving our lifestyle through a profitable business. While admittedly all businesses are social in the sense that they create opportunities for employment, improves stakeholder livelihoods, and engages with the community, Social Entrepreneurs are different because their primary motive is social change coupled with income generation. But is that possible? Can we create a positive social impact and drive change while still pursuing the entrepreneurial dream? But how?

To answer these questions and more, and to move us all one step closer to our socio-entrepreneurial dreams, we had based this month’s Startup Saturday in Bangalore on the theme “Social Entrepreneurship”. The session started with our first speaker of the day, Mr. Vikram Rai, Co-Founder & CEO of Sattva Media and Consulting (http://www.sattva.co.in) elaborating on the What, Why and How of Social Entrepreneurship.

Till a few years back, social development was predominantly perceived as the focus area of the Government, Civil Society Organizations and NGOs. Today it is no more so. Everyone can contribute to the community’s development may it be individuals, associations, companies, non-profits, NGOs or the Government. This has created an enormous amount of interest and a new breed of entrepreneurs has evolved who are keenly interested in creating a social impact.

While both entrepreneurs and Social entrepreneurs are primarily bothered with solving problems to generate the company’s revenue, the latter’s problems are larger and his/her solutions to them are more benefiting the society. They are as equally worried about revenue channels as they are about measuring social impact. They use new ways and models to solve social problems, or new ways and models to do business which also has significant social impact.

Vikram wrapped up his session with a final thought: Whatever model of business Social entrepreneurs follow, they would need to understand that unlike other businesses, they will need to invest far more time to see a substantial return on their investment - the social benefits and change driven by a profitable business.

Our next speaker was Ms.Sonali Singh of Start Up! (http://www.startup-india.org) who spoke about the support systems available for social entrepreneurs in India through her experiences at Start Up!, an angel investor for social entrepreneurs. She shared examples of two social enterprise startups they have advised and funded to scale to a business model from just a social idea.

She also spoke about how unlike other businesses social enterprises need investors who can stay involved for a very long time. This industry needs a new breed of investors (social investors) who will be more concerned about social change than just the monetary ROI. There is also, perhaps not so surprising, a lack of seed funds in the industry. This will change as the industry matures and we discover concrete ways in which to measure social change but till then social entrepreneurs might have to grow to a certain stage through their own funds before approaching VCs and other fund houses.

The final session of the day was the case study of a successful social enterprise. Ms. Neelam Chhiber, Co-founder of IndusTree Craft Foundation and Managing Director of Mother Earth (http://motherearth.co.in) shared her experiences and thoughts on founding and growing IndusTree. The IndusTree story is well-known and case studies of their successful growth to a profitable retail chain that connects rural producers to urban markets are available online. But more than these detailed case studies, Neelam’s experience sharing in the 45-odd minutes she spoke was extra-ordinarily insightful and thought-provoking.

The craft industry in India has been ignored for long and it has even been dubbed as a ‘sun-set’ industry. What everyone will be surprised to hear though is that this is the very industry that supplied everything a household needed before the industrialization and china imports hit India. This industry does not just produce the knick-knacks that you see in exhibitions and bazaars but also high-utility items. Many of us don’t realize this and crafts have been reduced to ‘cultural’ items of desire and not recognized as a source of income for more than 40 million people in the country. IndusTree and Mother Earth was started to take away this notion and bring to the masses indigenously produced goods - covering all three essentials Roti Kapda aur Makaan - and to establish a stable market and a better livelihood for the rural producers.

The biggest problem in the craft sector is working capital, and the mismatch between demand and supply. One of the ways in which IndusTree has been able to address this is through providing working loans to artisans (through Rang De) to help them produce goods, and assuring them of a market for these goods through a dedicated retail chain called Mother Earth. The other problem that plagues this industry is the amount of margin that is taken away from the producer’s share through middle men, distribution channels, and the retail outlet - a problem of supply chain. IndusTree has addressed this by giving these producers a share in the retail outlet (the brand) and not just the supply company. This basically enables more profit to flow into producers and also strengthens their commitment to the retail outlet’s success.

Neelam was also very vocal in her thoughts on calling these rural producers ‘artisans’ - she says these are goods that give them a decent livelihood, and they cannot be just reduced to culture and history. Supporting this industry is as much about enabling a sustainable livelihood as it is about buying affordable Indian utility goods not to mention supporting the most green and eco-friendly production process around.

Neelam concluded by narrating an incident from one of her stores on a mystery-shopper’s complaint of a ‘too-lowly priced” brass figurine. Unlike popular notion, she says, craft need not be exorbitantly priced to prove its authenticity and that pricing it high will not necessarily fetch the income that artisans require to lead a decent life.

...More at the HeadStart blog.

An endless quest for company?

2010-09-14T10:05:00.005+05:30

Go to the woods alone and let the trees and squirrels watch for you :)

Watch video here.

HOW TO BE ALONE by Tanya Davis

If you are at first lonely, be patient. If you've not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren't okay with it, then just wait. You'll find it's fine to be alone once you're embracing it.

We could start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library. Where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books. You're not supposed to talk much anyway so it's safe there.

There's also the gym. If you're shy you could hang out with yourself in mirrors, you could put headphones in (guitar stroke).

And there's public transportation, because we all gotta go places.

And there's prayer and meditation. No one will think less if you're hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.

Start simple. Things you may have previously (electric guitar plucking) based on your avoid being alone principals.

The lunch counter. Where you will be surrounded by chow-downers. Employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town and so they -- like you -- will be alone.

Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.

When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner. A restaurant with linen and silverware. You're no less intriguing a person when you're eating solo dessert to cleaning the whipped cream from the dish with your finger. In fact some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.

Go to the movies. Where it is dark and soothing. Alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.
And then, take yourself out dancing to a club where no one knows you. Stand on the outside of the floor till the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one's watching...because, they're probably not. And, if they are, assume it is with best of human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats is, after all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you're sweating, and beads of perspiration remind you of life's best things, down your back like a brook of blessings.

Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you.

Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, there're always statues to talk to and benches made for sitting give strangers a shared existence if only for a minute and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversations you get in by sitting alone on benches might've never happened had you not been there by yourself

Society is afraid of alonedom, like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements, like people must have problems if, after a while, nobody is dating them. but lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless and lonely is healing if you make it.

You could stand, swathed by groups and mobs or hold hands with your partner, look both further and farther for the endless quest for company. But no one's in your head and by the time you translate your thoughts, some essence of them may be lost or perhaps it is just kept.

Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those sappy slogans from preschool over to high school's groaning were tokens for holding the lonely at bay. Cuz if you're happy in your head than solitude is blessed and alone is okay.

It's okay if no one believes like you. All experience is unique, no one has the same synapses, can't think like you, for this be relieved, keeps things interesting lifes magic things in reach.

And it doesn't mean you're not connected, that community's not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it. take silence and respect it. if you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it. if your family doesn't get you, or religious sect is not meant for you, don't obsess about it.

You could be in an instant surrounded if you needed it
If your heart is bleeding make the best of it
There is heat in freezing, be a testament.

Today is a magical day!

2010-06-08T14:07:00.002+05:30

Today is a magical day and I am getting to play the part of a monster! How cool is that?

My left eye has shrunk (I kept rubbing it), the left cheek has swollen (thanks to tooth extraction), the chin is bruised (internal bleeding from the extracted spot), the hair is unkempt (I forgot the comb), my right leg is shorter than the left (part of the heel from my sandals broke), my gait is slow and painful (the broken heel sticks to the ground), and I look like a joker on top of it (my horse-riding pants and short tops).

What a blessed day indeed!

Where do babies come from? From Eggs of course!

2010-05-28T14:37:00.001+05:30

Now the kid is almost three, she has started asking us questions. Questions that aren’t always easy to answer. For instance take the one from this morning. The three of us were lazing around on bed, in that beautiful state between 'just waking up' and 'fully awake'. For once, the husband wasn't nagging me about the time and issuing dire warnings and predictions of me missing the office cab. The said fellow was instead busy rubbing his stubble laden cheeks wondering whether to shave or not. This must have piqued my daughter's curiosity. Out she popped a question.

Appa, why do girls not have moustaches and beards like guys? Like you?

The guy took his time to answer. I was happy to just observe thanking the sun that she didn't direct that particular question to me.

Hmm, that's because girls' moustaches and beards go in to their head and come out from the head as long hair. See, appa doesn't have long hair whereas amma has long hair, right? And amma doesn't have moustache!

Ah, good answer I thought (me not having a moustache I mean ;) ). Before I could finish that thought, she went again.

But I don’t have long hair! And I don’t have moustache too!

Identity crisis? I can’t believe my almost-three daughter is on the verge of an identity crisis. How is he going to handle that one?

Oh, you have to grow up tall to get moustache and long hair. You drink your milk then you shall get your long hair.

She seemed satisfied with that explanation and got distracted by something else. Thank god I have a husband who thinks quickly on his feet.

The other day it was my turn to be at the receiving end of a question. Fortunately, it turned out easy thanks to lessons in ABC.

Amma, where do babies come from?

While I was desperately trying to whack my brain to come up with a suitable, non-biological answer, the kid really really made me proud by coming up with an answer herself.

From E for eggs, right?

Of course! Babies do come from eggs, don’t they? I happily smiled my agreement and escaped from the spot before she came up with other additions to it.

I do love this stage though – I’ve been waiting for her questions and I just decided that I am going to document all of them here at the blog if possible :)

Finally.....I did it!

2010-05-25T22:52:00.002+05:30

After writing posts like this, this, and this, and hoping things like this and this will help me to stop talking and start acting, I've finally found the impetus to do the inevitable - I've resigned to become a freelancer! I wouldn't exactly call this decision the one. Who knows I might chicken out and join the corporate bandwagon again after a few months of trying to be on my own but at least I will die knowing I did it. Knowing I tried hard, very hard I hope, to make a living independent of corporate restrictions and sorry bosses. Monthly salaries and false securities. Misplaced loyalties and misunderstood sentiments. Matching skills and mismatched ambitions. Stolen coffee breaks and hushed conversations. Oh, that last one really gets my goat - hushed conversations. For a loud mouth like me, restrictions on how loud I can talk and how loud I can't really really turns me off.

So ya, I am going to be a freelancer post July. I shall be undertaking assignments in Writing and Marketing communications. I might do a bit of Editing/Proofreading too to bring in more money. But I'm really hoping that I will improve my writing portfolio - get a few articles published in papers & magazines and get rid of the ever haunting writer's block called laziness.

I also want to get involved in creative projects where the role is hazy but satisfaction immense - perhaps content work for a film or documentary. I can imagine that will be nice.

I am thinking of consulting for startups too - primarily in Marketing Communications and Sales Support. You know, the whole marketing plan and execution thing mainly on online mediums? Helping them respond to RFPs and tenders and other sales support activities they might need help with. I shy away from calling it Social Media consulting as I don't want to be slotted into that particular peg for some reason.

And what else? Oh yes, how can I forget? I want to start working for a non-profit or NGO, preferably working with children, on a part-time basis. I will probably approach the Parikrma Foundation and ask them if they have something for me.

Hopefully, I will find my sweet spot and make this work for me. But it does look daunting when I think of the money. When I think of not having the 31st to look forward to every month. When I won't have to update the credit/debit in the Excel sheet that I maintain oh so religiously (only the debit part it :P ) on the 5th of every month. It is a bit scary too when I consider that my dream of creating a 'mini-forest' and 'angel circle of flowers' might not be feasible on a freelance income. I do so want to have my own garden to plant some Mangoes, Tomatoes and Jasmine. But maybe I should be content with being independent and reserve that garden for the next birth. Maybe. And then there's the company - I'm sure I am going to miss those coffee breaks and lunch chatter. :(

Meanwhile, the heart insists on being unafraid. The mind is the devil trying to bring in negative thoughts and fear but the heart's refusing to listen. The mind then gets scared - oh shucks, you must be afraid, you must! Else unspeakable things might happen, listen to me, listen to me you. But no, she is on her merry journey, no backward glance ever dear, she says.

I hope so.

Stories to share

2010-05-13T20:18:00.001+05:30

I have two stories to share. Stories that speak of hope, enthusiasm, empathy, a little greed, and of possible, suspected selfishness. The first one is because I wanted to help someone else and the second one was because of trying to help myself. I must warn you that both have a bad ending as stories go. The first one is longer because I always have more eloquence at the beginning of a post and the last one is smaller because I always get impatient when I’m nearing the end of something. Read on now.

It must have been mid-morning and as usual I am being social with my mobile on the way to an office that is an hour and half long far commute. It does get boring at times and I am usually looking for ways to entertain myself. Suddenly, I see a tweet that goes ‘I’m desperately looking for someone in Bangalore who has a PayPal account and who is willing to help me.’ On this particular day, the ‘social’ angle of the personality is spiking and I shoot a reply saying “me, me, how can I help?”. Before I know, I’ve been requested for a small sum of money – could I give it to this person in INR in exchange for the dollar equivalent which will be transferred to my PayPal? Well, yes I can but…No, I need it urgently, you know I have to pay my son’s school fee? And tomorrow morning is the cut-off – so could you please withdraw the INR and keep it ready for giving it to me? And no problem, I shall come over wherever you are to collect it. Um, okay, I guess I can….I just transferred the $115 to your PayPal, can you check and confirm? Oh yes, it’s there in my account …okay then, all set. I shall come over tomorrow.

I’m obviously not giving you all the details here but suffice it to say that the money exchanged hands the next morning. But I’m missing two important things I did do to ensure some sort of authenticity to this deal. I did check my PayPal account to verify if the said dollar has reached my account. And I did tell the person that I did not want to withdraw the dollar to my bank – can I just send it back to his PayPal account, and once he gets the money in INR, he can just transfer it to my bank here? Agreed, signed and executed.

Two days goes by. Can I please share my bank account details? The person has got the INR and would like to give it back but wait don’t give back the dollar just yet (remember this – this may very well be the saving grace at the end of this story). So I give my account details after a couple of reminders and then wait. And wait some more but no news from the other end. Then one fine morning at around 8:30 I get a SMS. I’m urgently in need of a big sum – some 15000 bucks – I’ve been hospitalized and I’m just short of this amount for a surgery that has been scheduled in a few hours. Please, can you give this to me? Hold on, hold on, something tells me. I reply back, with a little regret, ‘Sorry, I do not have that kind of ready cash on hand which I can give you in three hours’. I’m not sure if I received a reply or not. I write him another message, with a little concern this time, ‘please take care of yourself, I will withdraw the dollar after all, you get well soon.’ No reply to this one, I’m sure. He must have already been wheeled to the theater or something.

Fast forward a few more days. I realize I have 115 dollars lying in my PayPal account gathering cyber dust. I decide to withdraw it. I login and to my rude shock find that 5 dollars from the amount has been deducted as some sort of fees to PayPal. And it says that if I return back the money to the sender, this charge will be reversed. I quickly calculate what a 5 dollar is worth and decide that it’s not worth it to withdraw the money to my bank (there are more charges to withdrawing the money too – I will eventually lose some Rs.250 in the entire transaction). I send the person a Direct Message asking him to inform me when he is back in action – I would like the INR after all and would like to return back the dollar. I wait a few days – no reply. Then I check his stream – he does seem to have come back to form going by some of his personal tweets. So why isn’t he replying? I get impatient. I withdraw the money to my bank because I’m running short of some money this time and in the process I lose some money in banking transaction charges.

And till date, I haven’t got a reply from this person. All I got in return to the favor is a tweet that went ‘she is such a nice person, you must follow her today being that this is Follow Friday day’. That was when I gave him the 5k. So thank you, awfully nice of you but where is my reply?

Cut to the chase. I describe this to a few friends over lunch one day and everyone laughs at me for being so gullible. What if this guy was trying to con me? Did I know the source of this dollar amount – what if it was from illegal transactions (meaning not accounted for at India) and this person was just trying to convert it to INR in the safest means possible? Didn’t this person have relatives or friends here who could have given him 5000 bucks? Why all the dollar-INR game? And hear hear, the request for the bigger amount later turns the entire thing sinister. Didn’t I get even a little suspicious? Sharing bank account details with a complete stranger? Unheard of!

I did get suspicious. After hearing these from my friends. So that’s the moral of the story. Which I am not really sure I understand fully. So is trusting someone blindly a fault, especially if I’ve never met that person before? Or is suspecting a person a fault entirely based on trivial discussions over lunch? After all, he might very well have missed seeing my single message to him for returning the INR. Oh well, I just wrote that off as another stupid thing I have done in my life. I don’t really want to go back to him and check what happened. Just not interested. Only that Rs.250 could have been given to someone who needed it more – but that is my ‘oh ye of superior moral and generosity’ speaking.

Let’s move to the next story.

I get a message – ‘hey, you look to be very interested in all this entrepreneur things. I’m an E myself and would like to send you an email, can you share the address?”. I reply back blandly with the address. I get an impressive email asking me to help connect this person to other co-entrepreneurs who might be interested in starting a venture with him. But mind you, the language of the email never once says ‘start a venture with me’ – it just says ‘I’m looking for people with these kind of skills’. I hit the reply – “sure, will pass on the message’. “No, no, the email is meant for you too. From what I’ve observed online of your activities, I think you will make a great co-entrepreneur. I’m looking for someone who can take care of my entire marketing need for my business’.

Yours truly gets excited. The two of us meet a couple of times. The man has a way with words, I must admit but unfortunately, so do I. At the end of it all, after a particularly candid email from me saying ‘marketing is marketing and not business dev’ he walks away with an email ‘Uh, I’m actually looking for a business development guy who can help me sell and you can’t be that person if you can’t envision yourself to be a co-creator’. Ya, right sirjee, it’s your dream, your idea and you want me to help you achieve it but I should not call myself your employee but your co-entrepreneur’? You got to be kidding me?!

The moral of this one is that everyone is out to get their dreams fulfilled and they will use fancy words to get others to believe in them. But I wish they will be more honest and forthright like me. I hate dealing and wasting time with people who talk all vision and balk at the first sign of reality.

So those are the two stories. Hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed going through the experience. I did warn you that I get impatient when I’m nearing the end!

Adios till the next lot of them.

If I ever write a book

2010-04-26T13:54:00.002+05:30

If I ever write a book, I want it to be like "The Immortals of Meluha" by Amish Tripathi. Though when I started it the words of the first few pages appeared disconnected, by the end of the book I have become an ardent fan of Shiva and Amish! The beauty of the words lie not in the words themselves but in their magic in conjuring up images in the readers' mind. In their ability to make the reader forget the words and think only of the world it writes about. Amish has brought this out oh so beautifully - so inspiring when you know that this is his first book.

It does feel like Mahadev himself gave the words to Amish to write the book and get the truth to the world. Truly feels like the words are from the ether. Just the kind of book that I want to keep reading forever and ever.... :)

Fear, Failure and the Face of Desire

2010-04-14T17:57:00.003+05:30

They are huge. They are colorful. They are scary. They are the butterflies that hit my stomach when darkness begins to fall. My mouth goes dry, the mind quietens into an almost meditative contemplation of fear, and the hands and legs prepare themselves to rebel. It’s funny really – I never thought something as mundane as learning a new skill will change my entire mental makeup so much. I have gained a whole new respect for the words, fear and failure. And of course, I’m thinking hard about desires. Desire to succeed, desire to compete, desire to accomplish what seems like cake walk to others. My mind insists on conjuring up childhood experiences that I can’t quiet recall. I’m not sure if I can trust what it’s trying to give me as an excuse for that adrenalin rush, the bad sort of it.

How hard can it be? I know am smart, am quick and am pretty determined – but when am in the water, I become all that I am not! It’s terribly scary – to think a side of me exists that’s ready to accept fear and the imminent failure that will go with it if I don’t overcome the former. I stand in the water watching people swim by like pretty fishes in their colorful suits, splashing water in my face in direct mockery of my fear. Their every hand movement taunts me – see, no one is holding me and yet am able to do this… what of you? Maybe you should attach an artificial set of hands to your own so that you can pretend am holding you, someone says. I laughingly agree on the outside and cringe inside. No, this can’t be me. Or is it?

I vaguely remember reading that the first step to overcome fear is to accept it. Then take its hands and ask it to accompany you – ask the fear to give you company, make it your friend. Talk to it and tell it to give you a free moment. Don’t ever try to deny it.

So okay, I’ve done that. I’ve accepted it, embraced it, and am taking it along every day with me to my classes. But it’s yet to give me a moment free. The mind is so silly – it fancies having been born as a cat or some other water-hating creature in the previous birth. Leftover Karma, it offers. I am not able to dismiss it as silly though. I frantically grab it as I do my instructor's hands inside the water, hoping that I will be able to learn swimming without ever having to float alone inside the water. What did I tell you? Silly it is!

Ha, I do hope I don’t embrace what might follow the fear. I don’t think I want to make friends with failure. The mind is actually clever too – it immediately retorts, why have the desire? Maybe it is just not meant to be!

Oh, I tell you…they are quiet a killer team. Fear, failure and the face of desire.

Organizing a nonprofit event – Finding and working with sponsors

2010-04-07T16:47:00.000+05:30

Finding a sponsor is as good as selling your event. And it’s not just a Rs.500 ticket that you are selling but a Rs.500 ticket at a premium of Rs.50,000! You are selling a place at the venue (logo displays, standees, banners), time with a captive audience (to talk about their products, to distribute discount coupons, giveaway goodies/samples to experience), brand association (to be known as a cause supporter), online footprints, organizers’ time and efforts, your personal time and efforts, your commitment and support to their brand…. You get the drift? Admittedly, the most important of these to the sponsor is the time with the captive audience. To get a sponsor signed up, all you need to do is tell them how you can help them sell their products/services to your event participants! It’s as simple as that – you sell telling them how you can help them sell! Of course, it’s easier said than done. I should know – I sent out some hundred of mails three weeks before my event to potential sponsors when I discovered that we don’t have a committed sponsor for our events yet. And out of that hundred odd, just one converted to a sponsor and that was by pure luck!

Thinking back about my efforts, I don’t think I struggled enough. Perhaps if I had started a bit more early, or perhaps if I had used my network of friends and colleagues a bit more better, I might have got more sponsors. But that’s water under the bridge.

What I would like to do is share some tips from my limited experience of seeking out sponsors and from the knowledge gained through the many advices kind folks gave me over LinkedIn. In retrospect, I wish I had known these tips before starting out – because each one of them is/was applicable to me – I followed some and didn’t take up others. But hopefully, if you are new to seeking sponsorship, this will help you to work better with sponsors!

Also, I’m sure the following tips will be equally applicable to events, nonprofit organized or otherwise. But it is especially important for nonprofits because they are so much under pressure to keep their event operating cost as low as possible.

Please do add to this list or feel free to disagree with any of it. This is for the collective good for all of us who are working to put together events for causes.

Finding and Working with Sponsors

First things first. The minute you know you are going to hold an event and that you need sponsors to cover your operating costs, start putting the sponsorship proposal together. People are always going to ask you to send them ‘something’.
Your sponsorship proposal can be a presentation, a word/pdf document, or even an email. What is more important is its content, look and feel. Brand it with your event guidelines, and verify that it provides only the correct facts about your event. If event details are not yet confirmed, make a bold note drawing attention to the same. Lastly, get it proof checked before sending it out.
Your sponsorship proposal must contain these details: the event details (venue, date, time – confirmed or tentative), a little history or reason about why you are holding the event, the demographics of people who are going to attend it (i.e. the captive audience at the event who the sponsor can target to sell their products/services to), the estimated cost of your event and a small budget note if available, clear benefits to the sponsor (which they can in turn use to sell within their organization), tax benefits (applicable or otherwise), and your contact details.
Always have multiple options to sponsor. Both cash and in kind. And for cash, though you can fix an amount for different levels of sponsorship, don’t be too stuck to it. (For example, if you have only one sponsor who paid you 30k but your platinum level is 1 lakh, it’s okay to make them your platinum sponsor – that is if you are not expecting any more sponsors to come onboard). Another strategy is to seek a number of sponsors each pledging a small amount finally adding up to what you require.
At the same time, be careful about accepting too many sponsors – kind or cash. You won’t be able to service all their requests at the event and you don’t want to dilute your event image.
Start approaching potential sponsors as early as possible. Don’t wait for the finer details of the event to be finalized. If you know the event is going to happen, and know roughly what it’s going to be, go ahead and start sending those mailers and proposals out.
Explore all channels and mediums to find sponsors – online (LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, Slideshare, Mailers, etc.), and offline (friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances, somebody you met at another event, etc.)
Stop trying to find just the ‘right’ contact in the company. Don’t hesitate to approach anyone and everyone – from your friend’s friend who worked there a year back to your 3nd level connection on LinkedIn. You never know who they know in their company.
It’s okay to initiate the process with multiple companies that are in the same market space (aka competitors). But make sure you handle your communications with them very well. And be clear that it will be first come first taken. When talking to competitors simultaneously, give them a cutoff date for confirming their sponsorship – that way you can follow up with the ones that showed interest and let the ones go that didn’t even reply.
Always approach the previous edition’s sponsors first. Give them an opportunity to say no before approaching their competitors.
Give enough time for potential sponsors to respond once you send them your proposal. Do send them a reminder or two after a week but do not ‘stalk’ them.
Once a sponsor commits, be very attentive to their needs. Find out their expectation from the event and lay down what you can offer early – get these written and acknowledged by both of you. If you can’t service something they want, be very clear in vocalizing it. This won’t necessarily mean losing them - there will always be ways to find a middle ground.
Keep in regular touch with your sponsors from their time of commitment until the event. In fact, it’s a must to send them a thank you note after your event along with a small feedback form. Will work wonders for your next edition.
Beware of sponsors who would want to bring in their own ‘cause’ and ‘conditions’. Being attentive to sponsor’s needs does not mean bending over backwards. Never compromise your event image.
If things did not go to the expectation of the sponsor at the event, please apologize after the event and work together to find how you can compensate.
Never ever forget to ‘time-bind’ the sponsorship proposal. After all, your event will be just a day or even a week, not more. Same way, promotional benefits can be provided only during the time leading to the event and just a few days after it. Do not commit to promoting their services after the event – even if you do want to do it, do it personally, not through your event brand.
If a sponsor who seemed very interested suddenly drops out at the last minute, don’t lose heart. Give them a call or send them a mail to find out why. Be frank and let them know that you have depended on the money they agreed to bring in and that you have made your own commitments to pay event costs from that money. They may have a change of heart!
Ask other event organizers for their advice and recommendations for potential sponsors. Though it’s unlikely that you will get the very same sponsor, it doesn’t hurt to approach their sponsors.
If a company hesitates to part with money, talk to them about sponsoring gifts or give aways at the event. At the least, you can ask their permission to put up event posters in their cafeterias or to send a promotional email to their employee distribution list to sell tickets. And don’t forget to include them in your event invitation list!
Clearly differentiate the benefits you offer to different level of sponsorship – don’t treat them all the same. After all, your platinum sponsor will want to be treated special.
Avoid very last minute signups. It will become a logistic bottle neck and take away precious event organizing time.
Don’t approach the wrong brands for sponsorship. For instance, approaching a hard liquor brand for an event where children are expected to be part of the audience is not a very good idea. Ateef, a friend who also helped with a few tips, recounts from his experience – he was successful in getting a very big amount from a company but at the end had to turn it away because his event board didn’t want such a brand’s poster on their event campus. And guess what that brand was? Underwear!
Once sponsors are signed up, find out their branding guidelines and make sure you follow them when you use their logos and other artifacts on your event sites, banners and in other places.
Lastly but most importantly, remember that though sponsorship deals are made between your event and the brand, the relationship between the people at both ends determines which direction the sponsorship proposal will swing.

Your thoughts?

The words...

2010-03-29T16:35:00.000+05:30

It's been so long since I wrote something. That something which floats to me and teases me to put it into words. That something that compels me to give it a shape though there's no clay around. That something that keeps me away from the love of my life. It's there...I can sense it. But the mind is not quiet. Too much was going on and then now there's nothing. The constant need for the worry, discontentment, and seeking is distracting me. And then there's life.

But I want to write. Especially when I read other's words and feel the beauty in them. The words...I need to write.

Twestival India - It's tomorrow!

2010-03-24T16:58:00.009+05:30

Make a difference to 72 million children worldwide

On March 25, 2010, in more than 175 cities around the world, thousands of people will demonstrate social media's power for social good through the second annual Twestival. The global event is a worldwide fundraising initiative that uses social media to focus participants' talent and resources to benefit one cause for one day.

This year, Twestival Global is supporting Concern Worldwide, an international humanitarian organization, with operations in India too, in aid of Education for the underprivileged children of this world.

Twestival will happen on the 25th of March across seven cities in India including Bangalore, Chennai, Cochin, Delhi, Goa, Kolkata and Mumbai. These cities will host particular events where over 500 people are expected to participate and rally for education for underprivileged children.

Join them and take part in this global movement to connect people online and offline for a cause.

There are multiple ways to help support this event.

- Attend the event

- Donate directly to the charity through one of the India City blogs
- Sponsor gifts and prizes for the event participants
- Buy a T-shirt from Myntra.com. 100% of the profits benefit Concern Worldwide
- Simply spread the word! Blog, tweet and write about us

Bangalore: It's the right time to say Thank God it's a Thursday! Twestival Bangalore gives you the right reason to have an hangover on a Friday morning - Charity! A special night with music, dance and drinks. Rock show by the Galeej Gurus and Repsychled. Nakul Shenoy's Beyond Magic. DJ Eldin at the dance floor. And more. If you in Bangalore, Twestival Bangalore is a must attend to meet your friends as well as to contribute to a social cause. From 7 pm at Opus, Palace Road.

Chennai: A meet and brainstorming session on how to use Social Media for Social Good anchored by Kiruba Shankar. From6 pm at Amethyst, Gopalapuram.

Cochin: ELECTROWESTIVAL, exclusively for Kerala Twestival, by Cochin’s Electro Boy DJ Arvee; Stand Up Comedy by Siddharth, KochiVibe; Techno-Humour Geek Extravaganza by Binny the blogger. From 5 pm at Somewhere Else Café.

Delhi: An entertaining evening with Stand Up Comedy acts, and Rock Music Performance by Five8. From 6 pm at Café Morrison.

Goa: Goa is ready to show the world that it has more than the sun, surf and sand with Twestival Goa – Music and Party too! Music by Back 2 Basix will be followed by an after party and a DJ night with Joel , Ryan Nogar and Claudio. From 6 pm at Lava Lounge, Chicalim.

Kolkata: Great Bong – an international figure, reputed blogger-turned-writer and Twitterati, will participate and share his thoughts on Twitter for a Social cause.Also will feature a Painting Exhibition, Cultural Programmes and a networking session. From 5:30 pm at Natya Bhavan, EE – 8, Sector II, Salt Lake.

Mumbai: An evening of fun, delight, games and networking. From 7 pm at The Coast, Fifth Floor, Crystal Paradise, Off Linking Road, Bandra West.

Are you attending a Twestival in your city?

Twestival India - An Indian Feast in the making

2010-03-07T10:58:00.003+05:30

Originally posted on http://twestival.posterous.com.

It must have been serendipity. I can’t explain getting involved with Twestival in any other way. There I was, in July last year, sipping coffee while wondering how to make my life more meaningful. A chance mention to a colleague, a couple of emails and a Skype call later my life completely changed – I had become the regional coordinator for Twestival in India! At that time, I had little idea of how satisfying, responsible and fun the role will become. Or how almost a year later I will feel so proud and privileged at what we accomplished in 2009, one tweet, one event, one rupee at a time. Though a small amount when converted to dollars, at India, we raised a decent amount for the charities we supported in Twestival Local last year.

In fact, I can safely say that it must very well have been the first time in India that the power of social media for social good was realized.

Today, with Twestival Global just around the corner, we are all ready to make a positive difference to the world we live in. Bigger and better. With a jakkas (as we call it India meaning superb cool) team in place.

This year, seven cities from India will host confirmed events in support of Concern Worldwide – Bangalore, Chennai, Cochin, Delhi, Goa, Kolkata, and Mumbai. And possibly Hyderabad and Pune too. Look them up at the globe here.

Being a regional coordinator for these nine cities is like becoming a master chef and helping prepare a full course Indian meal – you want to savor the experience but at the same time you can’t wait to see how tasty the dishes will turn out to be. The bad part of it? The chef can’t eat all the dishes he helps prepare. I can’t be at all the nine events however much I want to be!

Here’s a sneak preview of the wonderful dishes my super specialty chefs (the lead city organizers!) are working on. I have no doubt they will make us go ‘yum’ by the end of March.

Bangalore, well-known as the IT capital of India, true to its young and happening nature will be hosting a mega party on the 25^th and a fundraising Cricket tournament on the 28^th. Ya, I know. We love Cricket in India and how can Twicket (Twitter/Twestival + Cricket) be far behind?

Chennai, also known as Madras, popular for its music, art and culture, will be hosting 'Evening with a Poet' -a dance drama appreciation festival of an acclaimed Tamil poet.

Cochin, a city in the state of Kerala (we call it the God’s own country for its splendid natural beauty) will be hosting the first ever Twestival of the state. They are just about getting the ingredients ready – the event details will be out soon.

Delhi – If you’ve been to India, you know this one – our capital city. Secret dish in the cooking! Wait for more news.

Goa – oh yes, sun, sand and the magic of Arabian Sea. Goa is all ready to spring a wonderful surprise and I’m guessing there will be magic in the dish along with a hint of drama too!

Kolkata, noted for its revolutionary history, is hosting Twestival for the first time. Secret dish in the cooking again! Let’s wait for more news.

Mumbai, the home to Bollywood, is preparing an evening extravaganza. Maybe a bit of star dust too? I’m waiting to know too!

I can’t be more proud or feel more privileged to be part of the movement called “Twestival”. The things that bring real meaning to your life sometimes start really small and this one did too – with just 140 chars :)

When you forget the Cause, and just see the Institution

2010-02-22T13:59:00.000+05:30

Two years ago, I started supporting a NGO in Bangalore that works for the visually impaired/disabled children. I first came to know of them during a corporate event when these kids performed on stage in gratitude to the donation the company had made. I was totally moved. There was absolutely no need for this nonprofit to bring these kids and make them sing and dance before a crowd of ‘gifted’ (yes, gifted with sight) people to say “Thank you.” They could have simply sent a representative who would have said a few words and saved them the trouble and efforts in arranging logistics, preparing & rehearsing the song/dance, etc. Yet they did. The kids were at their best dressed and were very eager to showcase their talent. And I admired the NGO because they accomplished many things with this action: say thank you to the company, give these kids a chance to exhibit their talent and feel good, and show the people gathered at the venue the immense amount of courage these young ones have to live in this society and happily at that.

In the next two years, I made several passive small-time contributions (meaning no volunteering or even visits to their centers/schools but pure cash donation) to the NGO. The first time I donated, it was purely voluntary - I donated the money by myself without any effort on their part. Thereafter, every time, it was solicited by the NGO through phone calls. In fact, it came to a point where the NGO regularly started calling me every three months thanking me for my previous contribution and asking me to contribute again. And it was not necessarily at the end/after my contribution ran out – For instance, I usually donate towards the cost of mid day meals for 4 children for six months. So it was not necessarily at the end of these six months. In fact, they just called me up today and told me about a new program they have launched for these kids. I recall that I gave them a cheque three months back. And this is what has brought me a little soul-searching. Let me be frank here and thank you for not jumping to judgment.

So when I got a call from them this morning, my first reaction was irritation. Man, these guys can be persistent and annoying. What’s worse, their lengthy sales pitch (yes, sales!) is very convincing and definitely pulls all the right strings. And even worse? I end up feeling a complete moron when I try to put them off for a few days. You see, I have not really figured out my philanthropic side yet – I really don’t know if I want to keep donating a sum every month or every other month to the same charity. I do support other charities who I occasionally contribute to (but who never so actively pursue me!). And admittedly, this particular NGO is just asking me a few thousands which is not that great an amount of my salary. But I couldn’t bring myself to say an instant yes. It’s like I need some time to think and look at my financial position at the time of my month before I commit to them. When I tell them that, you know what’s the reply I get? Ma’m, we accept post-dated cheques. That annoys me even further!

So, on one hand, I have a high regard of them for all that they do and enable. On another, I get really annoyed with their constant solicitations. Conversely, I even admire their fundraising efforts! It does take quite a bit, resources and otherwise, to track your supporters, keep calling them and make them part with the measly amount they are willing to, to make a big fund for new programs.

But to do it so actively? So intrusively? Like making a telephone call on a Saturday/Monday afternoon when you know for sure the person will pick up. They probably also know that their supporters aren’t really the type of people to store the NGO’s number and not pick the call the next time they call (yes, that has occurred to me :( ).

I know they have limited resources which they are employing to call me and call me again when I tell them to call me another day. So they do listen, it is not like they are exasperating. But…but I still have this itch. Something is not right. Why am I feeling cornered? Why am I feeling pursued? Why am I feeling forcibly compelled? Am I not supposed to continue feeling the way I felt when I first donated to them? Why are they calling me so many times? Why can’t they just send me an email or a card? Will that cost them more? Or will that be less effective? Probably the latter because I do know that I am going to donate to them next month in spite of all these questions – because they called. But why is there this resistance to an instant decision?

In all this thought process, I forget to think about the cause that made me give in the first place. I forget the children. It has become more about the institution and not anymore about those children who I saw perform that I fell in love with.

What is a good duration to give your supporters before you call them again? Do NGOs just rely on a small set of supporters who give periodically continuously? What about getting new supporters? What can be a non-intrusive, yet effective, means of soliciting donations?

Your thoughts?

The elusive bird

2010-01-21T12:28:00.002+05:30

Guess what was the most exciting part of a fun day outing from office? Sightings of the elusive paradise flycather :) I've been wanting to catch this little fairy for the past four or so years and he decided to bless me this fine saturday afternoon. I was trying to photograph my fav little one, the Green bee eater, when I heard this sudden swoosh, and there he was. He flew in right in front of my eyes and sat for a long minute on the branch right above my head. I felt so blessed.

Here is the little fellow as seen from my lame camera.

The hands are just itching to get dirty

2010-01-21T11:48:00.008+05:30

2010 shall be the year, I hope. All this and yet am missing something...

Regional Coordinator for India for Twestival. Working with an amazing team of volunteers and trying to pulling them all together for @Concern
Active Volunteer with Startup Saturday Bangalore. Working towards realizing the joys of entrepreneurship... and hoping it will rub off on me.
Starting out working with Trupti on We are Children, a six-month media to raise awareness on the impact of child sexual abuse. At last a chance to get up from the armchair.
Covering the #Anganwadi mela at Mangalore on this Saturday, which is being organized by @breakthrough and @bell_bajao. Hoping to get inspired.
Being part of a Fun team to promote fun at work. In charge of making people have fun! Can get scary at times. And boring.
Being a mommy and getting all the special hugs and kisses reserved just for moms :)
The words are starting to bubble. The pot is ready to be opened and I do hope the writing starts soon. Can't take the silence too long, however eloquent I imagine it to be.
Self-employment is coming nearer and nearer...just a few more months and I shall be there.

So what is missing?

The farm of course! If only I can get that up and running quickly. If only I can start planting my tomatoes and Mango trees. If only I get to find a nice farmland up for grabs, conveniently located between Chennai and Bangalore somewhere...if only Life can get better. The hands are just itching to get dirty.

Stranger in the house

2010-01-19T16:44:00.000+05:30

There is a stranger in my house
Who looks in on everything I do
I can feel her eyes at times, sometimes her whole presence
But no one can see her, not even the family’s rockstar of a dog
She remains mostly hidden

I wonder what she does when we go out
She doesn’t feel bothered at being left alone, rather must rejoice
I hear her speaking to herself in the night, wondering why she is here
I would like to know too
I think

She disappears when there are too many people around
Probably can’t take all that noise
I feel her strongest when there are hushed conversations, and
And all faces turned towards the TV
Must be lonely to be unnoticed

I look into the mirror and ask myself how it must feel to be unnoticed
I ask the kid to give me a hug and a kiss
To shake the lingering gloom off
I wonder who she asks
For a moment close

On a particularly bad morning, with leftover unpleasantness from difficult confrontations
I muster the courage and turn towards her
How long do you plan to stay, Stranger in the house?
Shouldn’t you be leaving, I ask
Not yet, no not yet, I tell myself.

Stranger in the house.

Please! Enough of these impersonal wishes now!

2010-01-01T10:12:00.004+05:30

So many new year wishes...some forwards, some originally written, some on email, some as sms, some thru Twitter, some thru Facebook, and very few (none really) through a phone call! Whatever is happening to this world? No one is sending a real greeting card out, no one is picking the phone to make a call!

On the other hand, I am not really feeling enthused to reply to any of those smses, direct messages, scraps, or posts. Seems expected. Seems boring. Seems like lip(?) service! Its just another day, isn't it? A day is as you make of it, so what difference does the Earth returning to its original (?) position make to us mortals? As humans, we are always, ALWAYS looking for reasons to be merry! Seems stupid...why should there be a reason to let go and have fun?

Enough of the verbal (written?) diarrhea. Just an excuse to post really!

To be or not to be an entrepreneur

2009-11-26T15:47:00.003+05:30

If you have read through some of my archives, you will know that I am very keen to become self-employed. Now whether that will make me an entrepreneur or just a freelancer does not matter. The very thought of the freedom associated with self-employment and the responsibilities and risks attached to it gives me a rush. As it does jitters. The reason I decided to test the waters, so to speak, volunteering with HeadStart, a nonprofit supporting the entrepreneur ecosystem, organizing Startup Saturdays in Bangalore, before taking the plunge. The last six months working with the SSB gang has been wonderful and fantastically educational. Of my own capabilities, nature, attitude, and a whole lot of other things that won’t be interesting to anyone else other than me. And before I start writing my autobiography, let me get to the point which is the theme of this month’s Startup Saturday “To be or not to be an entrepreneur”. To say that this SSB saw a high number of participants would be an understatement. It was the highest ever. Makes me feel proud to be part of the team that organized it. God, there I go again, writing my biography. The self-interest does creep in between the lines, doesn’t it? But hey, isn’t that what blogs are for? Argh, stop. Before you become more philosophical. That was for me btw. Goodness, I have two writing personalities? STOP.

To continue with SSB November, here’s what we wrote in our mailers and event introduction – “Many aspiring entrepreneurs are still stuck and not able to take the Plunge…. This month’s SSB will have a session on whether or not to be an entrepreneur by a three-time startup expert….”Perfect for me and others who have been loitering around in the lobby and twiddling our thumbs. The only problem was that it clashed with my daughter’s first ever fancy dress day at her playschool. Mommy or Boss? Which comes first? Father! Roped the guy in to make sure daughter’s dress up doesn’t suffer and went ahead with enlightened self-interest. Mommy will not miss this month’s Startup Saturday at any cost. So attend I did and came away with lot of notes. Not sure about that enlightenment. I still feel like loitering around. But that’s beside the point as always.

Just to ensure that those notes don’t go wasted, I sat and put in almost an entire half a day at office trying to write a very interesting, very educational, very enlightening post on the session for the HeadStart blog. It turned out like an essay that my final year college self would have written. But then I loved my college self. So here’s an excerpt of what she, I mean me, lets just say we wrote.

“Chaos and uncertainty – two things you must learn to live with if you want to be an entrepreneur” – started Surya, our presenter for the expert talk this Startup Saturday. One of the most awaited sessions, November’s Startup Saturday saw the highest number of participants in the history of SS Bangalore. Over 170 people assembled at the IIMB auditorium on this brisk Saturday morning eagerly waiting for some insights on entrepreneurship. While the event started with a series of the regular lightning pitches the audience waited eagerly for the key attraction of the day, the expert talk and discussion on “To be or not to be an Entrepreneur.”

“You have an idea or a maybe even a lot of them. But you don’t know where to start. You are confused.” continued Surya, adding “Then you can assume you are in the right place… you are fit to be an entrepreneur.” A huge collective sigh of relief spread through the audience. You could almost hear them thinking “thank god, am not alone.”

Dot. Dot. Dot.

The session concluded with Surya’s last slide which resonated with all of us long after the Saturday. It simply stated thus:

“Don’t be disappointed if the world refuses to help you out. Remember what Einstein said – I am thankful to all those that said No. It’s because of them that I did it myself.”

Yes.

Read the complete write up here. And SAY NO to me please.

Finally there!

2009-11-18T18:48:00.005+05:30

My own domain...finally there! And that shall break my long silence, yes?

My first Gollu

2009-09-22T22:59:00.001+05:30

Twestival India - A lot of attention from the media

2009-09-14T14:48:00.009+05:30

Thanks to the Media industry for showering Twestival India with a whole lot of love and attention this time. For posterity’s sake, let me pull it all together in one place here. Most of these are pre-event features except for Times of India. There is still a lot of scope for detailed analysis of the Twestival scene at India – if anyone is interested, let me know.

We have also been covered by TV, primarily by the two channels TV9 and CNN IBN Network 18. We did speak with NDTV but I don’t think they covered any of the events live when they happened in the six cities between 10-13 Sep. We’ve recorded the TV9 telecast – will try to get @dhempe to put that on YouTube.

Meanwhile, enjoy the attention our friends have given us here:

Mainstream:
“This time, Twestival will be going local” DNA Bangalore – 25 August 2009
“Tweeting for a cause” LiveMint – 26 August 2009
“Tweet Dreams” TimeOut Bengaluru – 04 Sep 2009
“Twestival comes to Mumbai” Hindustan Times Mumbai – 4 Sep 2009
“Charity 2.0” Outlook Money – 09 Sep 2009
“Working for a cause the micro way” Times of India Chennai – 09 Sep 2009
“Local 'twestival' to be held at Bandra” DNA Mumbai – 09 Sep 2009
“An offline Twitter affair, for a cause” Times of India Bangalore – 10 Sep 2009
“Have fun at Twestival, but do volunteer” DNA Bangalore – 11 Sep 2009
“Tweeting for a social cause” The New Indian Express Chennai – 11 Sep 2009
“Party for a cause” The New Indian Express Bangalore – 12 Sep 2009
“Twestival Time” Indian Express – 12 Sep 2009
“Partying for a cause” The Hindu – 12 Sep 2009
“Bangalore Twitter users raise money for charity” Times of India Bangalore – 13 Sep 2009

Others/syndicated news:
“Twestival Time” Yahoo India News – 12 Sep 2009
“Twestival: 'Party for a Cause' this Saturday” MSN India – 10 Sep 2009
“TATA DOCOMO Sponsors Mumbai's Twitter Festival” India PR Wire – 10 Sep 2009
“Bangalore's 'Twitters' to help underprivileged children” Indian eNews – 11 Sep 2009
“Twestival (Twitter festival) Bangalore offers help to underprivileged children” Weeks Update – 11 Sep 2009
“Bangalore's 'Twitters' to help less privileged kids” Silicon India – 11 Sep 2009
“Twestival and Dream: A Dream arrange cultural show!” Duniya Live Bangalore – 12 Sep 2009
“Bangalore's IT hub to use 'Twitters' to help underprivileged kids” MyNews.in – 12 Sep 2009
“IT Hub Bangalore organizes Tweet Party for charity” UB News – 13 Sep 2009
"Bangalore Twitters rally to help needy children" Gulfnews.com - 11 Sep 2009

TV:
"Tweeting for a good cause" CNN IBN - 15 Sep 2009

I will be keeping this post updated as and when some news gets published on Twestival India. But if you come across any other feature or coverage that I've missed, do let me know and I will get this updated.

Indian Non-profits on Twitter

2009-09-10T16:32:00.018+05:30

Updated 29 Oct 2009

When I came across the list of Indian Brands & Businesses on Twitter by Santosh Maharshi , I found it very impressive. It was just the thing I was searching for when I was looking to connect with potential sponsors quickly for a fund-raising event. After some time , I got thinking. Won’t it be nice if we can similar lists for other things as well besides Brands and Businesses in India? For instance, a list of non-profits in India on Twitter?

So here's the list of tweeting non-profits/NGOs/volunteer organizations/initiatives that I could find (Thanks to Maya and others for their contribution to this list):

The short url you can use to refer to this post is http://bit.ly/IndianNP.

The TweepML quick reference list that will enable you to follow all of them or a selective few is here.

I will be updating this list frequently through the Twitter List feature here. May not on this blo though. So for the latest updated version, please check my Twitter Indian nonprofit list.

For now, am keeping the definition pretty simple - any organization that works for a social benefit without profit as their main motive. And there's very little/minimal due diligence that I do before adding them to this list - just relying on what their website/tweet says - but I realize that as this list grows, that will have to change. Obviously, we wouldn't want anybody to get a free ride in the name of non-profit. Mulling on that...

Meanwhile, iIf you would like to add any other non-profit to the above list or remove inappropriate ones, tweet me on @adropofwisdom or leave a comment below and I will update the list!

Lets make a difference, one step at a time.

Making one difference at a time

2009-09-07T16:04:00.006+05:30

When I got a chance to become the regional coordinator for India for Twestival, I had no clue how much I will enjoy taking on this role. But the past few weeks of running with the Twestival organizing in India (and sometime back for Middle East and Bangladesh too) has been nothing short of amazing. It has been absolutely satisfying and makes me feel like I am making some difference to this world. Loving it. Got to thank @amanda and @dhempe.

Meanwhile, here's some of the press that Twestival India has received:
DNA
Outlook Money
LiveMint
Hindustan Times
TimeOut Bengaluru

Twestival in India will be happening at Bangalore, Chennai, Delhi, Mumbai, Pune, and Hyderabad. Each of them are supporting a different cause. Check their blogs for more details. If you are in any of these cities, make sure you participate. Let's make one difference at a time.

Some pictures from Masinagudi/Bandipur

2009-08-18T00:00:00.005+05:30

God's secret garden, Masinagudi!

2009-08-15T20:24:00.010+05:30

If God had a secret garden, its name would surely be Masinagudi? Lush and green doesn’t even begin to cover when one describes this beautiful piece of land which has so far managed to keep the greedy hands of human civilization under its control. Nestled between the famous tourist town of Ooty and the more well-known sanctuary of Bandipur, Masingagudi is the commonly referred name of both the little town, the cluster of small villages, and the forest areas nearby, starting past the Tamilnadu-Karnataka border on this side of the Blue Mountains. The dense forests and the lush green expanses of plains of the Mudumalai, the ancient mountain ranges of the west, also called Nilgiris (Blue Mountains), reveal a little of themselves in this pitstop before their wilderness becomes more difficult for man to access.

I first visited Masinagudi two years back on a quick weekend getaway and immediately became hooked. The place seemed to be right out of the scenes of the Jungle Book, and other stories of wild animals and forests that have always captured my imagination since childhood. And to think that this is right at my backyard, heavens! I decided, later, that I must do my pilgrimage on this road to Ooty, every year whenever possible. Whenever possible happened two years later and there we were at Masinagudi last Saturday herding a group of youngsters on what I would like to call the ‘wilderness appreciation workshop’ that we like to frequent often as we can, city bred as all of us are.

Most Websites say the best season to visit this place is October till June but believe me, August is just blissful. There is not as much tourist population as there may be at other times of the year, and the rain gods are just about taking a break after a heavy performance washing duty of the mountains. Our animal friends are more relaxed and less wary of the sight of the two legged beasts, and the self-educated naturalists in the form of forest guides are far more down to earth in their charges too. All in all, we couldn’t have visited at a better time.

We were supposed to stay at this place called Green Resorts (more like a Lodge as we found out later) but a chance overstay by one of the guests ensured we were out of place. Our friendly naturalist, Karthick, who had helped us with the booking, became quiet remorse and decided to compensate by taking us to a less-famous, and thereby better, accommodation a little father inside the forest from the town of Masinagudi, called Wild Breeze. The moment we saw Wild Breeze, we were all captivated.

More than a resort, Wild Breeze looked like a set of mini homes with its own private gardens, mountains, and animal friends. “You can see hundreds of spotted deers right at our backyard at night,” went Mr. Hari Nair, the easy going manager of the place, adding “Why only last week we saw wild dogs hunt a deer down!” Woaw! Wow! We are not going anywhere else even if you were to chase us down on elephants, I thought and we settled down for the next 24 hours, each of its minute filled with hopes of seeing those wild dogs return! But as it happened, elephants did do their chase, wild elephants in case you think otherwise, and chase they did the manager. More on that in a little while.

So after checking in at one in the afternoon, we began planning our POA for the next one day by discussing with our Naturalist. Karthick reeled off the activity options like well memorized items off a food menu complete with cost details:

Jeep Safari in the night = Rs.800 per jeep, each jeep six people
Camp fire with fun and frolic = Rs.300 for fire, fun and food extra depending on how many bottles
Early morning illegal trek inside the forest=Rs.200 per person (reducible up to Rs.150) per hour for however many hours you wish to trek
Visit to bath at the Moyyar (Singara) river of the parts=Rs.400 for to and fro jeep charges to the bathing site
Another safari if you wish=same as before
And of course the hugely crowded government organized Van Safaris at both Mudumalai forest reserve and Bandipur; Mudumailai at Rs.35 and Bandipur at Rs.90 (not sure of this cost)

One can also do a night stay inside the forest but it is not advised in addition to being illegal!

We decided to take our chances with the government safari at Mudumalai first, much to the disgust of Karthick, who couldn’t help but boast about his sightings of Leopard and Tiger just the previous week when he had taken another tourist group. Cynical as I was (remember I had visited this place two years back? Our guide then (they hadn’t yet started calling themselves naturalist then) made a big fool of us by pointing to some trees saying he spotted a panther just that morning sitting on those trees!), I knew at least the government safari is sure to show you some animals, if not Tigers and Leopards (nocturnal animals they are so no chance there!), but elephants and bisons surely. And spotted them we did in the safari along with deers, peacocks, Nilgiri Langurs, and other monkeys. But the worst part of the government offered safari is the wait at the ticket office – considering that this was supposed to be off season, we had to wait over two hours for our turn! But well, you can’t miss it.

We opted out of the private night jeep safari that Karthick offered, again because of our lessons from two years before. Back then, our guides fooled us by showing tamed elephants (of the Mudumalai forest office), and passed them off as wild tuskers grazing inside the village! Our guides then also took us to this old temple inside the forest and stalled the jeep for ten minutes in front of it saying Tigers visit the temple often! Though it was totally romantic (don’t ask me why! My husband dozed off half way in the safari then but I found it all oh so totally romantic to be wide awake and seeing nature at her best at night – voyeur I know!) and adventurous, we did not spot a single animal except for those wild tuskers! So we decided to stay back at Wild Breeze instead and catch up on horror stories this time round.

What do they say about Murphy’s law? What do they say? I would have beaten myself with ten broomsticks in the minutes that followed when Karthick returned from the night safari of another gang that stayed in the next cottage and proudly announced, “Ma’m you missed it! We saw a Leopard and another gang with my friend guide saw a Tiger! Ask the guests if you don’t believe me!” The guests with him nodded and off they went chatting excitedly about their luck. I turned to stare at my husband hoping to burn a hole right through his cynical mind (I conveniently forgot about my own acquiesce to his opinion!) because he was the one who first suggested opting out of the night safari. When I think of that stupid decision, I still feel like kicking myself. So animal spotting or not, this night safari is a must if you are in Masinagudi. Like I said, it is really romantic, adventurous and one of a kind experience.

The night bought in some much needed excitement later when we heard the manger come running from the gates. Apparently, he was going to the town to bring back something when in the dark his bike suddenly illuminated three elephants standing right in his way. He dropped his bike and ran back from the path like crazy which is when we saw him. After waiting out sometime, one of us took our car to the site and the manager got back his bike. There are wild elephants roaming abouts, don’t go wandering outside the gates was his advice before we retired for the night.

Oh, I almost forgot about those hundreds of deers in the backyard. Yes, there was truth to Hari Nair’s words. In fact, there were more than hundreds of deers behind the resort that night though we could see only their eyes (when we turned on our torch beams). I guess they all come near the resort at night to sleep – it might offer them a safer place than the rest of the forest, near as it is to light and human habitation, and thus far from the predators of the night which generally avoid the human trails.

We slept reluctantly that night, sorry to step inside the four walls of the room, away from the blanket of stars and wilderness.

Wait for more pictures - and the next day's events! I will put them up later!

Updated to add: By popular demand (hehehe!), here's the number of Wild Breeze - 097517-64310 - the manager's name is Sri Hari.

Oh dear, this is one messed up world!

2009-07-28T12:51:00.002+05:30

We all live in a governed world. There are no exceptions. Even the most uncivilized tribes in the world have rules and customs, and a patriarch or matriarch to follow. Modern man, obviously, is even more encumbered. By standards, expectations, administrations, customs, conventions, dictates, traditions, and all the other nouns that stand for the very antonym of a free society. In other words, simply stated, Man today is not free. He lives in a world filled with rules, regulations, norms; self-imposed at times but to most part imposed by others in the name of governance. Of course, the logic is “Government is necessary to the existence of civilized society.” And that exactly, my dear, that exactly is my peeve. What’s wrong with primitiveness? What’s harmful in being uncivilized? Why are these two immediately tagged as harmful and dangerous? Can’t an uncivilized world manage to live on its own? This world must be messed up in the head to think otherwise.

Let’s park that line of thought for a moment and move to another flea that is biting my head. I was in this conference the other day when someone asked me what I do. Instead of sticking to plain old truth, I decided to test future waters and slickly replied, “I am an independent consultant.” What do you think was the reaction? Mad cow disease. Yes, I am not exaggerating! The person who asked me that question suddenly seemed to have contracted an illness that has so far only been associated with a mad being, or perhaps someone who mistakenly inhaled nitrous oxide. He laughed like an idiot. And so did the others who were surrounding us, listening in shamelessly on what was supposed to be a private conversation. “You mean you are unemployed? Ha, ha, ha, am I clever or am I clever? Ha, ha, ha, that is what people who got laid off recently call themselves! So tell me what you actually do?” was the reply after entertaining me with three long minutes of non-stop mouth noises. Now you know why I called him an idiot. He simply could not comprehend the fact that someone could actually work for themselves, that some people do no mind being outside the walls of a corporate organization, that some people can be self-employed.

That got me thinking. One thing led to another, and soon I was ranting inside my own mind, not too dissimilar to that idiot (that illness must have been contagious or something). Do I like the rules you need to follow inside a corporate structure? Do I like the donkey (ahem!) licking patrons of bosses and super bosses? Do I like the false cheerfulness and dishonest opinions? Do I like the self-propagation by getting subordinates to do your work? Do I like living someone else’s dream? No sir, no. If there was a quiz on what is your second primary motivation to become an entrepreneur, I would definitely select option D. The option D being “being your own boss”. Being self-employed. Being Self-governed. Ya, sad quiz that will be giving three choices under one option but hey I am the kind to create such quizzes.

So, when one gets disenchanted with the magic world of being employed by somebody else, much less being employed in a huge conglomerate where the dream of the founder himself is no more, one can easily disengage. Despite the mass prevalence of idiots infected with mad cow disease, there is still hope for self-employment, still hope for entrepreneurs. All that I would need to do is convince the ruling lords that I don’t need them anymore for my survival and march out of the campus. As easy as that. Of course, you shouldn’t forget to return the dog tag, considered most sacred, also called employee identity card.

If only it was as easy to walk out of the modern civilized society. (Lost? Scroll up to the first paragraph. Sigh! short memory span is not so good…)

So if I want to be self-governed, don’t care for an elected representative, don’t care for a chief of tribe, don’t care for the head of the family, and don’t even care for a dominant mate, where the heck can I go in this world? Is there a place like that in this Earth where I can just be? I don’t need your protection, I don’t need your violence, and I don’t need you civilization, period.

I am so devastated to realize that there is absolutely, absolutely, not a single place on this Earth where I can be a self-governed being living in a place filled only with self-governed beings.

This world is indeed messed up big time.

And they are talking about privatizing the jungles. I wish my karmic cycle of birth and rebirth ends before civilization becomes even more civilized.

Lightning speed update

2009-07-22T17:38:00.001+05:30

Sorry, I have been away longer than I intended. It’s just that some things have been keeping me away from mainstream life and it seems like am just floating around in this huge soap bubble reflecting multi-colored lights all around. Before I drown in any more words, a lightning quick summary of what I wanted to say.

The roundup of the Lightning Pitches session that I helped organize this July Startup Saturday is up over here. Read and let me know how you like it.

Meanwhile, I found Rang De, and I must say I just love the idea/concept. Will soon become a social investor myself.

Stay tuned.

High Fashion Therapy in Chennai

2009-07-01T20:35:00.006+05:30

Whenever I go to the good old city, a visit to its fashion hub is the most important item on my agenda. The good old city that I mention here is the very traditional, very snobbish, very cultured, very mammi-ish, very dear, very beautiful Chennai. And the fashion hub is none other than the affordable (now that's an oxymoron, affordable high fashion!) line up of vendors at Pondy Bazaar in the center of the city, T Nagar. Especially hub for the latest and greatest in accessories, the kinds that you deck up your plain little (or big) ears with, and decorate your swan-like neck (or double chins) with, and embellish your sleek (or Schwarzenegger-ish) arms with, and for many more such innovative furnishings for your body.

I contracted the love for accessories from my sister, once known as a high fashionista throughout her college. The ailment once it catches you never leaves you, forever spoiling you for other lower afflictions such as the usual ones for gold and real diamonds. After all, how can dull bombs compete with the bright and artificial, not to mention affordable, stones of Pondy Bazaar? So thus began the long courtship, all its keepsakes treasured carefully in velvet boxes, Tupperwares, and laundry bags. Every six months, I take them out, sort them into neat little bundles, tag them appropriately, and put them back in the folders they belong, messed up as they are by busy hands on busier mornings. The process is very therapeutic, giving almost the exact same pleasure one gets while visiting the high street.

On my last visit to this sacred center, I decided to pay a little more attention to details and not just get drunk into a religious stupor of earrings, earrings, and more earrings. I wanted to see if I could use all that I was forced to learn during my MBA. For instance, in this street where every second vendor sells the same stuff, how do they differentiate themselves? Does it matter who you buy from? Is there any difference in quality at all from one seller to another? Do these guys love their job selling earrings, necklaces, bindis, tattoos, and clips? What kind of profits do they take home? Does their girlfriends, wives, and moms buy from them or go to their competitors elsewhere? Do they allow pretty maidens to have their way and shoplift a few items, with a good long view at their bosoms payment enough? I wanted to talk to a few vendors and find these out and more.

But all I managed to do was take some photos. I couldn't overcome my compelling and addictive habits. But it was very therapeutic though. Very.

Here are some of those photos, to give you a sneak view to High Fashion in Chennai.

Salesman Extraordinaire

2009-06-21T19:37:00.001+05:30

At first glance, Mr. Lalit of Parkview shop at Chennamakare appears to be just like any of the thousand merchants trying to make a living selling things. His shop, exactly opposite a park, specialises in selling children's toys, cycles, and other gift articles. Other than that, nothing else seems to set it apart from the others lining the street save for the colorful display of tricycles standing outside the shop doors. Having seen it many times on the way home, it had firmly registered itself on my mind as a possible option for buying kid-related stuff. So when my daughter's birthday came by, Parkview shop was what naturally came to our mind. We entered the shop with just one objective in mind - buy our baby something special as a gift to mark this milestone in her life and ours.

Lalit is a 55+ year old gentleman, the sole in charge of Parkview - there were no other assistants around the premises. When we told him of our intention to buy something special, his first question was "what is your budget." Now that's not a typical question you would expect from a shopkeeper. Contrarily, they try to avoid knowing your budget so that they get a chance to tempt you with all the high-priced goodies. With this kind of unfounded warning (in this case) in my mind, I hesitantly told him Rs.300 - 400. Lalit was matter of fact in his reply: "OK, here are the things you can buy in that money.... this, this, this and that..." I was not impressed with this, this, this and that. It must have showed on my face. His next question was "who is this for? neighbour's kid?" "No, our own!" shot out my husband. "Ha! sir! You should have told me. Why are u trying to stick to 300-400 then?"

In the next twenty minutes or so, out came Mr.Sales executive extraordinaire. He also seemed to be the very incarnation of patience, most tolerant of our indecision and changing choices every other minute. When I made him take a heavy weight rocking horse from the top shelf, with the least intention to buy it but just to see it from close quarters, he didn't seem to mind at all. He was full of advices - mentioning both merits and demerits of everything he showed us. We finally narrowed down the entire shop to three items - a car like cycle, a tent house, and a swing seat. But I wanted to get just two of them though the hubby was loudly tending towards all three. Ha, surely Mr.Sales executive extraordinaire will cease the opportunity to press all the three things on us? No! Instead, do you know what he did?

He rode the cycle for us!! Yes! A 55+ aged man, sitting on a low cycle car, steering the vehicle around the shop, demonstrating the value the piece would bring to us - an utter joy to watch indeed! We were embarrassed just watching him - he was the exact opposite. In fact, he insisted my husband to try it for himself. "You might riding this cycle more than your kid, I tell you" he grinned. Need I tell you if we brought it?

When it came to the time of billing, being the plastic people, I asked him breezily - "you do accept cards?" "Yes, but you will be charged the 2% extra charges... is it debit or credit?" he questioned. "Oh, debit but that's OK... i don't mind the charges!" Lalit was aghast! "If it is debit card, why do you want to waste that money? there is an ATM nearby, go on... you can save 40 rs with which you can buy a big chocolate for your daughter! Meanwhile, I will have your cycle and tent ready all wrapped and ready to carry home"

We took us a good ten minutes to the nearby ATM. But we were impressed. With the salesman that Mr.Lalit is, with his patience, with his honesty, with his amazing selling skills.

Naturally, when we came back, I was curious to know more about him and his business. He was delighted to share his story. He had always been a business man - a BA, LLB graduate from the 1960's - dealing mainly with wholesales consumer items but more recently has opened a retail kid's store because of his love for children. When I asked him what he would advice young businessmen who are just staring out, he was very emphatic on three points.

Never take credit - never ever give them either
Do not employ people to work if you don't really need the extra hands
Treat your business as you would your body - take utmost care of it, give it enough attention, and do it all yourself - the dirty as well as not-so-dirty tasks. Your business will definitely reward you with a healthy living.

And of course, you got to be a salesman extraordinaire!

The June Edition of Startup Saturday Bangalore

2009-06-15T20:59:00.000+05:30

To say that it was a full house at the Startup Saturday Bangalore June Edition would be an understatement. The hall was filled to capacity. This was my first time attending this forum but I was not disappointed. The event turned out to be amazingly organized and informative.

The focus of this month was "e-Commerce and Internet businesses." Four companies in the online business presented their cases, business models, value proposition, and where they dream to take their business forward. A common thread between all these guys is their focus on consumers - all of them were primarily targeted at the B2C market - not surprising considering the huge potential of the Indian Internet population. At the end of these presentations was a small talk by Rajeev Goswami of Shore Consulting on "Marketing for Startups."

First to kick off the demo was Abhishek Kumar of eveningflavours.com. The business is simple - provide the consumers a place to locate restaurants according to their preferences and book a table if they wish. On the other side, tie up with restaurants, bars, pubs, etc. and offer them technology and marketing solutions; and bring them online visibility. The idea is not new. A poll at the end of the presentation saw an equal raise of hands for both options of "Do you think this business will succeed or fail?"

Next to take the stage was the exuberant and highly energetic founder of LetsOlla.com - Aashish Solanki. He is also the founder of NetBrahma, a design production company based in Bangalore - he also happens to be a co-founder of HeadStart.in, I heard. This young man was literally oozing energy all over the stage - his passion for his business was so clearly evident. An important trait VCs and investors look for I am sure. Moving on to his business, LetsOlla is a concept of online facilitated bartering, lending, sharing or give away of products/services. Though the idea is age-old, the execution and medium is what makes it fresh. Not to forget the beautiful minimalistic design of the product that we got to witness during the quick demo. I am not sure if I was impressed with LetsOlla but I sure was smitten by NetBrahma.

These two demos were followed by lightening presentations by AIOBazaar and WebDhaba. Lightening meaning quick ten minutes walk through of the business model. AIOBazaar (standing for All in One) is into online ordering of food items - groceries in general. AIOBazaar has tied up with various food marts including the big players like FoodWorld, Reliance, etc. - you get to shop online at the convenience of your home - and shop for items from multiple stores - and get them delivered at your doorstep. There are clearly other players in the market who are doing the exact same thing. Whether the business will sustain is a question only time can answer.

WebDhaba is again an online food ordering business - food from restaurants. Complete with menu and price details online, the value proposition of the business seems to be exactly that. Order what you want - at the price point you prefer (comparing restaurants)- and take your time while doing it. They are doing good business in Mangalore but are yet to attack the Bangalore market fully. The founder was wise enough to acknowledge that alliances and partnership with other companies in similar line might what make the difference to his business.

Rajeev Goswami is a 50+ old gentleman. He has held senior leadership positions at companies like IBM and CA. Right now, he is the CEO of Shore Consulting, a advisory company for Startups who are just reaching the operation stage. Their focus clearly is on offering marketing expertise to the startups. Like Aashish Solanki, Rajeev was a high voltage man too. The crowd was buzzing with excitement. A separate post on his presentation will follow.

The best part of the day turned out to be the last five minutes when the forum was opened upto the audience for a quick introduction of entrepreneurs/startups in the crowd (to facilitate the networking session that was to follow). Though people were initially hesitant to get up and identify themselves as an entrepreneur (there's always that hesitation I noticed!), soon they got going and we heard an eclectic mix of business services, products and consultancy pitches. For instance, the mention of an online saree shop caused mild amusement to ripple through the audience.

Startup Saturday Bangalore June Edition wrapped up around 2 PM after a round of networking for which I didn't stay back.

Lessons? High energy, motivation, passion, and solid business idea are some of the requirements that startups MUST meet. And I must start attending this event regularly.

Bangalore Photography Workshops - No dearth of choices!

2009-06-12T18:07:00.003+05:30

I wanted to give the hubby something different for a birthday gift this year. For how long can one surprise the man with mobile phones, watches, electronic stuff… and cards? You will agree that it is a daunting task to come up with innovative gift ideas year after year, especially for men (while for women it is the easiest thing - there are so many choices. Now whether the woman will actually like your choice is another matter!). So there I was, wracking my brain a good one month before his birthday searching for bright ideas, when I remembered how he always claims to be a better photographer than me. Voila! My gift idea reared up and stared me in the face.

Why not actually make him better at the art than me? And while at that, learn the tricks of the trade without paying for it (by threatening the man with dire consequences if he doesn’t remember and repeat word for word what he heard at the workshop). Send him to a photography workshop!

The next obvious step was of course to search for such workshops in and around the city. And man, I tell you that’s when I got oh so totally floored. In the last three years while I was sleeping, the photographers in the city seem to have made photography workshops the “in” thing to do. A simple search in Google turns up so many results and choices. And it becomes really difficult to sort the chaff from the wheat. That’s when I decided to make the list below for easy comparison. Exactly like the comparison list I made for buying my two pathetic cameras (in retrospect! But they were the best choices at that time!!).

Being the good samaritan that I am, and to have something to fill the “achievements” space in membership forms, let me share my list of Bangalore based Photography workshops and their details. Before you proceed further, read the disclaimer at the bottom once. And twice. If you still find any of the information listed here to be untrue for this timestamp, just email me. I will get it corrected as soon as I can.

Name	Conducted by	Next/Last scheduled	Where	How much	Duration	More details
Photography workshop	Amoghavarsha	Next one on 13th and 14th June	Usually in a nature camp called Forest trails at Bannerghatta Reserve Forest but this time inside the city	Rs.3500 (inside the city)	2 days	Here
Photography workshop	Kalyan Varma	Next one on 13th and 14th June; Usually conducted every month	Usually in a hotel	Rs.4000	2 days	Here
The Contrarian Photo Workshop	Mahesh Shantaram	Next one on July 11th and 12th	Photographer's house at Murugeshpalya	Rs.3500	2 days	Here
Elephas Photography Workshop	Sudhir Shivram (Elephas)	Last one was on May 23rd and 24th	Usually in a hotel	Rs.3850	2 days	Here
Weekend Workshops in Basics In Still Photography	Bangalore School of Arts and Photography (Anand Sharan)	No information on the last workshop this year; Is not very regular I think	Studio at Koramangala	Rs.4500	Spread over 5 days - roughly 4 hours each day	Here
Introduction to Photography and Camera	Active Canvas	Last one on June 6th, 7th & 13th	Active Canvas, Jayanagar	Rs.750	3 days - 3 hours each day	Here
Photography on the Move	getoff ur ass (Hellmuth Conz)	No information on the last workshop this year	Field	Not revealed	Maybe 2 days	Here
Theme-based photography workshop	Canon/National Institute of Creative Communication (NICC)	Last one was on May 23rd	Canon Image Lounge on Brigade Road	Rs.1000	1 day	Phone: 65337001, 65337002

Some of these photographers also conduct out of town workshop like the interesting Agumbe Rainforest Photography expedition by Amoghavarsha and Anamalai Tiger Reserve/Valaparai Photographic Expedition by Kalyan Varma. There are also more technically focused workshops like the digital Photography workshop by Sudhir Shivaram. And I heard from a friend that Jayanth Sharma of Wildlifetimes.com also conducts workshops – but sadly his Website is down so I don’t have any details. Here is another one I came across very recently i.e. today! – I saw it in the Timeout Bengaluru Magazine - An Online Photography workshop by Mahesh Bhat. Online workshop, isn’t that cool? I am sure there might be more folks offering workshops but these are the reliable ones I know of. If you have heard of any other workshop you want me to include here just leave a comment or email me.

So which workshop did I send my husband to finally, you askth? Wait and Watch. I will hear his experience and maybe blog about it!

Disclaimer: All the information here is collected from the websites, blogs, and forum/groups of the photographers/organizing companies. I did not take the effort to get any of it verified by emailing them. So this information is applicable only for this particular timestamp. The photographers/organizers might update their site any minute and revise the offerings or its price – for which obviously I can’t be held responsible. Did I say this is time stamped? I don’t lie so rest assured this is information you can rely on and of course, I am not associated with any of them. No marketing gimmick, this one.

Visit to the Startup City

2009-06-06T17:12:00.007+05:30

For the first time, I took myself seriously and attended the SiliconIndia Startup City event at the Nimhans Convention Center in Bangalore today. The morning sessions turned out to be very interesting. Sanjeev Bikhchandani, Founder CEO of Naukri.com, spoke about how he happened on the idea of a job site and what kept him going. His advice to the startups, which he called "Wisdom in Hindsight", were very clear: Know your customers, Solve an unsolved problem, be an early mover, be frugal with your cost, don't get into a business just for making money, and finally and most importantly Persistence.

When Ajit Balakrishnan, co-founder and CEO of Rediff.com, walked in on the stage, the crowd was visibly excited. Rediff, after all, is our very own home-grown portal standing shoulder to shoulder with the big guys (as is naukri of course). Rediff, as you all may know is an offshoot of the main business Rediffusion which is a media company. It was apparently started out by Ajit just to see what the Internet can accomplish but later become an integral part of his business. Today, Rediff.com is headed towards mobile and is continously thinking of innovative ways to keep up with technology and customer needs. While Ajit told the crowd about this exciting journey and responsibility of being an Indian portal, his advice to the startups was only one: periodic re-invention.

The rest of the three morning sessions were presentation by the event sponsors - Amazon on their Web Services, Sun on their Startup Essentials, and Nokia on its ForumNokia. All of them highlighted how they can help the startup community (Amazon with their cost-effective cloud solutions, Sun with their support for open source products, and Nokia through opening their OVI for mobile developers).

The event ended with a keynote session by Sanjay Nayak of Tejas Networks. Sanjay turned out to be best and most inspiring speaker of the day. He shared his thoughts about the opportunities in the Indian ecospace, especially for a product company.

The afternoon sessions were parallel tracks of presentations by startups to VCs. I did not stay back for these though the line up of startups in each of the tracks were pretty interesting. Maybe next year, I will be presenting like one of them. Ha, ha, ha. Let's see.

Overall, not a bad investment in time. I wish I had attended the previous event organized by SiliconIndia on Women entrepreneurs. Seeing how nice this one turned out, I'm sure that one would have been nice too.

Protospace Bangalore – What a lovely idea!

2009-05-27T17:21:00.000+05:30

I chanced upon Protospace Bangalore via Twitter. It is such a lovely idea to create a shared infrastructure for independent professionals to work in. Kudos to the guys who thought it up.

The concept seems very simple – you are a professional who works alone, or maybe you are a freelancer who works at home, or perhaps you are an entrepreneur who is still incubating. Why should you spend unnecessarily in renting out an entire office space or apartment for yourself or just a small team? With the economy being the way it is (duh!), it makes so much more sense to work in a shared space and share all the associated costs that comes with it, doesn’t it? Or for people like me who are or want to be independent professionals, and for whom working from home is not an option (for reasons like discipline, discipline and then discipline) it is a great idea to operate out of a formal workspace such as this and yet have some control over your environment.

I have come across other forms of this concept before at the HeadStart discussion forums and other blogs. But those were more like vacant seats in an office which the resident companies were trying to get occupied and share the costs for them. But Protospace is a novel idea where ALL the residents of the workspace operate in a similar fashion. I don’t think more than half the residents will belong to the same company or group. And that’s what makes the idea look so attractive to me. There’s so many opportunities for interactions, inspirations, and synergies for the eventual residents of the workspace who will be from varied fields. And what’s more, they are even proposing shared facilities like coffee machine and library! Sounds perfect to me.

If only it was closer to home!

Anyone game to open another one of these in the South of the city? I wouldn’t mind helping you set it up.

Manifesting my desire...

2009-05-25T22:43:00.002+05:30

I've been busy manifesting my desire. Of being a writer. Which I am already. So correction. Of being a published writer. Let me hit the pedal when the Juipter is still conjuncting Neptune. And while Mars aspects both Jupiter and Neptune. It's time the desire saw light. Stay with me. Wish me luck.

Beggary is not a bad thing

2009-05-19T13:15:00.002+05:30

There are many kinds of beggars on Indian streets. The children, the size negative women with malnourished kids clinging to their hips, the physically deformed or wounded, the bisexuals and eunuchs, the odd drunk fellows, and the really old thathas and ajjis. They are most noticeable at traffic signals. The moment vehicles come to a stop, they swarm them extending their arms asking for a rupee or more.

The kids are smart – they usually beseech the person saying they are hungry. The women are even more clever and say the kids clinging to their hips are hungry and they need the money to buy milk. The physically deformed or wounded don’t say anything – they just stand there before you wearing a tortured expression hoping you will become horrified enough to give them a few coins so that they move away from you quickly. The bisexuals and eunuchs plain demand the money. The drunken fellows are the least respectable in this entire lot and just earn a disdainful glance from most motorists. The thathas and hajis usually don’t target signals due to their failing bodies. They are usually seen only near temples and parks.

I have heard many stories regarding all these kind of people. The children are part of a bigger operation, like the one in SlumDog Millionaire (Hindi Movie). The women are plain lazy gypsies and the kids are not even theirs. Or worse yet, they have kids just so that they can beg on the streets and use them as props. Or they use the money they get in the name of milk to buy themselves alcohol. The wounded keep their wounds fresh and bloody just so that it will elicit more sympathy; they never let them heal completely. The deformed are not really deformed – they are usually deliberately inflicted (either by themselves or someone else), or again they are part of a beggary racket (like the one in Naan Kadavul (Tamil Movie)) or they are just pretending. The bisexuals will harass you if it happens to be a lonely signal and god forbid if you are a man. And so on and so forth. I don’t know not how true or false any of these “stories” are. And I call them that because I have never really verified any of them to be beyond that personally. What I do know is that, even if they are not true, they can be true.

While I was watching Naan Kadavul, I cried and cried. Almost the entire movie. I do not know what affected me so much about it. Many people, including my friends, called the movie too gross and ugly for their liking. If they were affected at all, they were only revolted. For me, it was the opposite. I was so drawn in towards what was happening on the screen that it was like I was one of the deformed beggars. I could almost feel their pain physically – sitting in the air conditioned Inox. Maybe I was a beggar in my previous life. I am not being flippant. And then there was SlumDog Millionaire, in which though I didn’t feel as strong emotions as I did with Naan Kadavul, it was still strong enough to affect me. These are the only two recent movies with a big enough beggary concept that I remember watching.

Few years ago, I remember having this argument with a friend on whether one should give any money to the beggars. I don’t remember which side I was on. I remember though that we decided not to. By giving them money we are only encouraging them to beg further. Whereas they should be working their asses off to earn their daily bread and not have it easy begging people. Beggary is bad for India and the entire economy. And so on and so forth. That was our logic. Oh, what high chairs we were on. Following that, I stopped giving them (I don’t know when I began!) any money. But at times, I did get off from the high chair, especially when the women came around with their kids.

In the last few years or so, I stopped buying into that logic. That beggary is bad for the economy. That people should not beg. That people should work for their living. But that did not necessarily translate into me giving beggars money when I saw them. It totally depended on my mood. There was this particular thatha though, who I clearly remember, who always managed to get me to be more charitable. In fact, he still hangs around in the same place. We used to go to this benne dosa breakfast joint where he was a regular. And I always always gave him something. I am particularly susceptible when I am eating and a beggar comes along. And for some mysterious reason, I felt an affinity to this thatha. I even contemplated giving him a new blanket that was lying unused at home.

Sometime back, I rethought about this whole beggary thing. And I found myself a theory.

Rewind many many many years back. Million years back. Before civilization happened. Land, water, and the air were free for anybody to use as they wished. There were no fences to land, fertile or barren. Fruits and veggies hung in the trees without price tags. Any animal or human could pick them and eat them. All you need to do is do a little stretch *work* to get it. No one laid claim to anything. It was a free place. Not surprisingly, there was no beggary.

Do you realize what I am getting at? Beggary can only be a byproduct of civilization and man’s greed and habit to lay claim on things. Being that the case, when resources started becoming limited only a few could play successfully at the game. While most tried hard to lay stake, a few stayed true to their nature and sought out things for free. Like they had done before. Like it was supposed to be. From nature at first. And later from others. Their only mistake is not *working* for it.

Why is this wrong? Aren’t the resources of this earth to be shared equally with all its inhabitants? How can you call the money in your pocket as your own? Like any other resource, isn’t that to be shared too?

So maybe it is a big racket. So maybe the money you give goes straight to the bar cash box. Or maybe it dissuades even the ones who want to *work* for their living showing them an easy way out. But that, THAT, should not stop you from giving. And please, rid yourself of the foolish ego that makes you ask “how will the money I give be spent.” It simply is not in your right to do that. Like how your company does not question how you spend the salary they give you. Far-fetched? So be it. But true.

Are you asking – don’t you care what happens to these beggars? Don’t you want to give them a more sustainable means of livelihood? A more respectable(?) one? Yes, sure. Most definitely. But only if that beggar is FORCED to beg. If he or she is doing it out of his own free choice, then by all means I will encourage beggary and not preach to him to find work.

The other day, my father told us what I think he read in the Bhagavad Gita. That one should do Dharma (charity) to free himself of his previous karmas. Those who are beggars today are people who forgot to do dharma in their previous lives. So whenever one comes across an opportunity to give, he should do so freely. Only if he gives will he receive.

And then there is this book called Stars Signs by Linda Goodman that I cherish. One of the things it talks about is a way to create wealth or rather a way to attract money. Money, like all things in universe, is guided by the law of action and reaction. What goes around comes around. Simple. Linda is very clear in saying that only if you spend, you will get the money back – no point hoarding it.

So whichever way you look at it, emotional, spiritual, logical, or otherwise, I can only conclude that beggary is not bad. Not bad at all.

So the next time I come across a beggar and probably the many more times to come, I will part with a bit of what’s in my purse or buy him or her something to eat. If it is the former, I will not worry where that money goes but will definitely murmur a prayer hoping it is not funding amoral activities. What’s the definition of amoral, you ask? That’s for another blog post!

Jayamma and her charges

2009-05-14T15:05:00.003+05:30

Jayamma looked at the wall clock that had been given to her as a wedding gift thirty years back. It was already eight thirty and there was still no sight of Madhu and Rekha. The baby lying in the cradle looked like it might wail any minute but was content moving kicking its leg at the moment. Jayamma contemplated lifting the baby to her shoulders but deciding against it turned to her husband.

“Re, will you call them? They are usually here by seven, na?”

Srinivas did not seem to hear her, so drawn in was he by the cricket match that was being telecast live. His children had often joked in the past “If appa is watching a match, even an earthquake can’t budge him.” But Jayamma had never brought into that idea. So she repeated a little more tersely this time,

“Re, do you want to call them?” in a semi-loud voice, half-fearing that the baby might start crying. She tapped her husband’s shoulders for good measure and repeated it once more.

Srinivas turned away from the TV with an irritated expression on his face.

“They must have some meeting at the office. Why are you troubling me, ma?”

“No, re. Madhu would have told me if he had a meeting… Aren’t you worried about our son?“

Afraid that he might miss a catch, Srinivas took a minute until the commercial break to reply to Jayamma. “So what do you want to do now? Maybe Rekha had a meeting…” he frowned at Jayamma adding “…You call them”, Srinivas turned back to the TV notching up its volume a little.

As the noise of a thousand boisterous fans from the Kingsmead Stadium at South Africa filled the Bangalore household, the baby which had been quiet so far decided to join their league. It started out as a meek sound at beginning, like a kitten really. But when no adult peered at it for a few seconds, the baby decided it was time for the high works. The kitten sound turned into a tornado and almost drowned out the cricket noise. Tears started flowing from its eyes like a river and its face started resembling a ripe red melon.

Srinivas and Jayamma looked at each other shocked by the baby’s sudden change in temperament. Flustered, Jayamma started cooing to the baby, “Baboloo, Baboloo… what happened? Your stupid mother will be here soon dear, don’t you cry…” Srinivas tried to do his bit by lowering the TV volume and alternatively shifting his gaze from the baby to the TV and back again while repeatedly saying “what happened, baby.” But the baby was in no mood to listen. It was way past its dinner time and it wanted its mother’s breast at any cost.

Setting the cradle swinging, Jayamma hurried to the kitchen to heat the leftover milk from morning all the while muttering beneath her breath. “Irresponsible people, don’t they know that the baby wants its dinner by eight?” She lifted the almost-empty sugar dubba and scrapped its bottom with a bent spoon. When few of the remaining crystals that clung to it refused to budge, she gave the dubba a good bang against the wall, and looked at it viciously. “They take it for granted that I will be there.. What if I had gone for my meditation class and Baboloo is just with his grandpa…. That fellow can’t light a gas for all his life’s worth” She cast a dirty glance towards the hall where Srinivas had by now moved towards the baby and was desperately dancing around the cradle.

Quickly wiping the split milk drops from the kitchen slab, Jayamma carried the feeding bottle back to the hall. “Here, hold this” she thrust the bottle at Srinivas without glancing in his direction. She first checked the baby’s bottom for wetness before lifting it to her shoulders. She rubbed its back up and down cooing sweet nothings. Moving the baby tightly against her chest, she took the bottle from Srinivas and gently took it towards the baby’s crying mouth.

When the warm silicon nipple touched its pink lips, the baby stopped crying instantly. It opened its mouth wider and tried to take in the entire nipple only to find it too big for its four month old mouth. Baffled at its non-cooperation, the baby spit out the nipple and scrunched up its face ready to cry again. Jayamma smiled amused at its greed, just like its father, and tried to coax the nipple back into its mouth. A drop of milk escaped from the bottle and fell onto the baby’s mouth. Tasting its sharp sweetness, the baby immediately started suckling the nipple forgetting its intention of a moment back. Jayamma heaved a sigh of relief and settled back against the brown sofa coated liberally with dog’s hair. “Re, change the channel; it is time for the serial.”

Srinivas reluctantly lifted the remote from the floor and changed to the Udaya channel for the serial the household had been following for ten months. Today is a crucial day. The mother in law was going to confront her daughter in law over her neglect of household duties.

“Increase the volume, re” Jayamma commanded.

To be continued…

Final thoughts

2009-05-11T21:59:00.001+05:30

Warning: You may perceive this poem as pretty gruesome in places. Read on at your own risk.

I’m a dumb dog
Lying in the middle of a highway
Hit by a speeding car
Flesh of my stomach peeping out
I don’t think of the pain, I can’t bear the thought
Of the next car that might run me over
Tossed between the four wheels, I surely won’t
Have time to say my final thank you
I once felt jealous of a puppy for getting
All the attention I thought I deserved
Today, I know I can’t be more unnoticed
Even if I were to lay my heart out bare

I’m a dying moth
Lying dead on a dusty window sill
That kids will try to make fly
Lifting me by my flimsy wings
Or dangling me by the ends of the antennae
And soon I will crumble to powders on the ground
The touch of breeze, the water drop on a dry day
Are stories that will never get told
My dull eyes shall watch the joy in their eyes
Turn to disgust at my lifeless form
I wonder if moths are born again
Will I die in the same way

I’m an aborted fetus
Stored in a carefully sterilized jar
Discarded from my mother’s womb
In the lab, most sought after for my deformities
Did I say I was unwanted?
I had two eyes, two ears, and a mouth
But in my hurry forgot to form the nose
Found fused it was in the seventh month scan
Flushed out into a cool liquid the day after
My never used heart didn’t know to feel pain
Even when a tiny piece tore under the surgeon’s knife
What would I have become if I had lived

Of high brows, beauty, and YLG

2009-05-04T14:40:00.011+05:30

I first set foot in a beauty parlour some ten years ago. I had been fortunate to inherit the right feature from the right parent except for that one thing which I got from pop. I didn’t realize it was a big deal until I came to college and started seeing beautifully shaped bows for brows. I wondered at their perfection. Some curved like arrows, some straight as a line, some so thin they were almost not there, some simply too perfect – but all of them with one thing in common. They looked beautiful on the faces where they belonged. Then somebody, I think my sister, let me in on the secret. “Idiot, they are not natural natural”, she said. “You can get them too!” Wow, I can? My long association with the parlours must have begun then. For the next ten years or so till now, I had been religiously keeping my appointments with them in search of that elusive eye brow.

I must have frequented over twenty parlours and salons by now at various times – different cities, different brands, different aunties! But yet, I have never found one which I wanted to stick to. There had always been a better one, recommended by someone, than the one I frequented and off I went to experience that. All in the quest towards high brows and beauty.

So naturally when Shalini of Galvanise emailed me asking if I would be interested in experiencing the services of a new beauty salon that has recently been started in Bangalore, I readily said yes. The said salon and spa, YLG, a client of Galvanise, was inviting women bloggers from Bangalore to try its services and write about their true experiences. In turn, the ladies would get to indulge themselves for three hours at the salon without any rupees attached to it. Seemed like a good offer to me so we quickly fixed an available time slot on the first of May for me to visit their branch at Jayanagar.

Before telling you about my experience, here’s some background on them. YLG salon and spa was launched early this year and aims to become the neighborhood salon of Bangalore. They even want to become a national chain in the next five years. This all women salon and spa is differentiating itself through its strong emphasis on personalization – seems they have a robust backend IT system where customer data is captured allowing the customer to be recognized at any of their branches across the city. Hmm, sounds like a plan.

May first was a Labour Day holiday and I had an entire day all for myself to spend as I wish. I was looking forward to my appointment at YLG at eleven. The Jayanagar branch was easy enough to locate after a phone call – they are right opposite Bhavani bangle stores at fourth block. The moment I walked in, I was greeted by its cheerfully made up interiors – bright and inviting. After spending ten minutes with an attendant who profiled my skin and hair, we decided on an Aglow Facial and Hair Bio Spa for me. Ha, indulgence, here I come.

While we waited for my service room to be set up, I quizzed the attendant on why YLG is different. Of all the things that she explained, the one thing that struck me as a bargain is one of their membership/offer schemes. There are two kinds of membership – Gold and Gold Plus and then there is per service unlimited offer price. The Gold is like any other membership where a bouquet of services is included with unlimited usage per year. Gold Plus includes ALL of their services, unlimited usage (as frequent as everyday if you want!) of any service, and validity of a year. That seemed very interesting to me until I heard its price point. Uh-uh, not for me! So finally I turned to their per service offer and decided I might even go for one. It’s beautifully priced like a fixed price bid! Pay 10 times the one-time cost of a service and use it as much as you want in a year. For instance, if my SIL gets a facial done once every month, it will make twelve times per year. With this offer, she would need to pay for just 10 months and what’s more, she can use it for more than 12 times! This is amazing, especially for services like hair coloring, trimming, hair spa, etc. where you might want to visit a parlour many many times a year.

I opted to start with the Aglow facial for my three hours of indulgence. Like all facials, this one too had the regular round of cleansing, scrubbing, removal of heads :D, toning, massaging and stuff. But one thing that was different was their use of an ultrasonic machine to treat the face – I’m not sure what that’s for but am guessing it is to improve the blood circulation in the face! And the face and neck massage was something to die for! Oh man, did the attendant know what she was doing or what? At the end of one hour, I was almost asleep and floating in the dream world of words and letters writing my soon-to-be-published short story collection!

The Hair Bio Spa, the next thing on schedule, is a simple procedure where the hair is washed, hydrated, massaged and steamed. This one had one of their breakthrough services (or so they claim) called Chromosteam - a way of head massage which includes strengthening of hair roots and nourishing the scalp through light radiation and steam. Though there was nothing noticeably different about my hair after this (being that my hair is quiet ok already!), I did feel good to have someone else shampoo it for me for a change!

Overall, I liked visiting YLG. But the best thing I liked about their entire service is the willingness of the service attendants to explain what they were doing when I asked them. Many a times, in my previous experiences at other places, the attendants were never forthcoming about their actions or the products they used – almost as if they were afraid of me noting it down to do it myself next time instead of coming to them. That used to put me off. But the folks at YLG were nice in that respect – they did not fear letting me know what exactly they were going to do next to me. Transparency. I liked it.

YLG does not exactly stand for anything. But it may be, may be an acronym for “you look great”, “you look gorgeous”, or ”you look good”. It all depends on how you feel once you are out of there. I did feel good.

Oh ya, before I sign off, I just loved their Jayanagar branch. One side of the salon’s wall was made of transparent glass and overlooked the Jayanagar street below. And more beautiful were the two big trees that stood outside providing green cover. This washed the entire parlour in soft natural light making it look calm, bright, expansive, and yet chic. Very nice unlike the other parlours where one starts feeling claustrophic with the limited space and artificial lighting.

O Husband! Where are you when we need you?

2009-05-03T09:16:00.001+05:30

When my husband asked me “Will you miss me?” I replied “Probably not! I will be too busy at my mom’s place. I will try to though.” I didn’t know that I will be cursing myself for giving that smart aleck answer just a few hours later.

I and my daughter decided to set forth on a long journey some 350 kilometers over hills and plains, bridges and crossings, to the wonderful city of Chennai – all alone. We decided no husband and no father – the girls needed their time out from male auras. So there we were, loaded with two heavy backpacks - one for her and one for me - and my handbag. When we boarded the train, with the said aura in reach, I didn’t realize what’s in store for me the next day.

No one, absolutely no one, not even my husband, ever told me about the secret life of backpacks and how they get incubated overnight on trains to hatch into monsters. I am so sickened to realize that the world kept this secret from me for so long. Did you know about this? If you did, you should be ashamed of yourself for not warning me. If not, please know now.

It was 4:30 in the morning and the train was scheduled to reach the final destination at 5 or so. I sneaked my hand down below the side lower birth where we were sleeping to touch our backpacks and make sure they were there. One of them contained an entire half of my wardrobe and I didn’t want some stupid thief getting hold of that. Assured that they were there, I turned back to my daughter to find her snoring softly. Ha, all is well, I thought and returned back to my sleep.

Next thing I know, I am rudely woken up by a loud cry of an invisible man yelling “last station last station.” I had been sleeping even after the train had reached my station, probably for a good ten minutes! Thanking god it is the last station, I quickly grabbed my shoes and my daughter’s and turned to look for a porter to take the bags. Uh-uh, no one in sight. What the heck, I can manage three bags and one kid by myself I decided and heaved the two bags from below. They were just fine at that point. So I put one of them on my back, picked up my handbag on my right, and took the still-sleeping kid on my left, and then I suddenly realized that I didn’t have a third hand to take the other backpack! Now what?

Let’s wake the kiddo and make her walk I thought and tried to shake her up to consciousness. But no, the lady was totally oblivious to my efforts and snuggled even further into my shoulders. No, no, no, that won’t do. I tried to cajole her with promises of chocolate and ice cream but she didn’t buy them! By then, the Chennai heat had started to work its wonders sneaking up into the compartment. My face was getting drenched with sweat. Don’t panic now VJ, let’s just get down from this bloody train and all will be fine I muttered to myself. After a great struggle with the swinging door of the accompartment, I got down on the almost-empty platform with three bags, one kid, and two hands.

So there, all I need to do is walk down some 1 kilometer past the train (the ac compartment was but the last coach in the train) into the railway station and an auto. Should be easy.

It would have been too. Easy. But for the secret that the world and my husband had concealed from me. The backpacks which must have been just 4 kilos the previous day seemed to have turned to over 40. Add to that a two year old kid. And my own 50+ (you didn’t think I will reveal my exact weight, did you?) The next one hour became the longest walk in my life.

The kid was still sleeping clinging to my hips, and the backpacks still didn’t want to walk. I had never enrolled my handbag for flying classes so can’t blame it for not knowing to fly. So it fell upon my hands and legs to learn the fine art of balancing forty kilos on one side, another ten or so on another, and keeping an overall 50+ (still not telling you!) straight and standing at the same time. I almost managed it. Except that one of the backpacks suddenly decided to jump down to the ground and take some rest right there and then. I tried to pick it back up but it didn’t budge. I didn’t know if backpacks liked chocolate and ice cream so didn’t bother with promises this time – I directly went to brute force. Unfortunately, it didn’t like brute force.

Just then, its brother, the other backpack decided to join in on the fun but found itself strapped to my shoulders. Never mind I can still get down seemed to be its motive and it almost dragged me down on the other backpack on the platform. Hello guys? Hello! I’m the master here, you know? You guys are supposed to be lifeless things that get loaded and dragged everywhere by us superior creatures. What do you think you are doing? I sternly questioned the two rascals. And that’s when they told me the truth about themselves.

It seems they are not really lifeless backpacks – it’s true that most of them remain that way all their life – but some of them, very few lucky ones actually, get the opportunity to turn into little monsters at some point in their life. The metamorphosis required a very special set of procedure – that involved travelling by train, getting stashed into the space below side lower berth, accompanied by another one of their kind (it happens only in pairs), and being carried by a human female with just a two year old for company and no one else, especially not her husband. If all these happened, then the backpacks will turn into backtroms, the little jumping monsters from marstrix. They get to enjoy this life for a very short while until the said human female comes into the company of a dumb man - then they return back to their lifeless form forever, content in the knowledge that they had experienced nirvana at least once. At least this is what the ancestors of the backpacks told them. Saying this, Bogobogo (the previously black backpack on my back) finally managed to jump down to the ground, triumphantly crying “hey it’s true, it is our lucky day!”

I watched all this with a shock typical of dumb spectators who witness aliens landing on their roof. Though I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears, somewhere in my brain I realized that what’s happening in front of me is very rare. Probably, very few of us humans would get to see this and live to tell in our life time. And I was determined that I will live to tell and write about this.

So mentally making notes for my blog, I approached Wogowogo (the previously blue backpack that had jumped to the ground first) and asked it to behave itself. “Wogowogo, you are carrying half of my cloth belongings. Please, would you mind treating them with care?”

“Sure human lady, don’t worry, though we are now backtroms, we still respect the duties of our backpack days” replied the confident Wogowogo adding “but please let us play for some time, will you?”

Heaving a sigh of relief, I waited for a while for both of them to get accustomed to their new status as backtroms. In that almost-empty platform, early in the morning, I sat watching the miracle of backtroms playing with each other, jumping and flying in the air, shouting obscenities about the humankind (both these backtroms were males). I saw them do somersaults, twist and turns, gyrate in space, and much more acts that defy word forms. As I was watching this, my daughter woke up gradually and smiled me her consent to walk on her own.

We waited for a while more watching those two together. Then, I called them and told them that I am getting late. They need to come with me if they want to remain with me. They readily agreed, and the four of us walked, jumped, and flew across the platform to the entrance of the railway station. Just then, an idiot, in the form of an auto driver, offered to take me home which is usually not more than 100 rupees away, demanding me to pay 200. With a sad smile, the backtroms turned back to backpacks and fell heavily on my shoulders. I stared at the dumb fellow and called him a fool for his atrocity.

I had to carry the two heavy backpacks for the rest of the way to our auto and home. I wished my husband had been there to witness the miracle of our two backpacks, and of course carry them after. After all, the miracle happens only once in their life time and they will never become backtroms ever again.

O husband, where were you when we needed you?

Tamil Literature? Tamil Pulp Fiction!

2009-04-29T21:54:00.012+05:30

I first read about "Tamil Pulp Fiction" few months back in Chennai Metblogs. My first impression obviously was that it must be cheap Tamil short stories or novels translated into English. I dismissed it with the disdain of some one who had never read a good Tamil novel completely. Little did I know that the last week or so would have me reading the very same compilation non-stop, each story making me eager for more!

What got me interested this time was this: Two weeks back, one of my friends at work approached me with a sly grin and said he was reading a story with my name. Hurricane Vaij! I was immediately hooked and begged to borrow the book from him. I didn't realise it would turn out to be the one I had brushed off sometime back - "Blaft Anthology of Tamil Pulp Fiction", a compilation of nineteen selected Tamil short stories translated into English.

Generally, the term pulp fiction is used for stories printed on cheap recycled paper. So it's the paper that is cheap and not the stories themselves! But somehow, the term seems to have inherited that trait as well!

This is the cover of the book. Does it look sleazy? But that's how typical low-priced Tamil story books are illustrated. So perhaps it is appropriate for this book as well since it's a collection of those stories.

I must say I really enjoyed reading most of these stories. They are as entertaining and masala full as any of your English ones. Yes, they are not too "literary" literary but hey, that's exactly why this book was published according to the translator's note. Quoting her "this book is an attempt to claim the status of literature for a huge body of writing that had rarely if ever made it into an academic library, despite having been produced for nearly a century." So there, if Mills and Boons deserves its respect, so does Tamil Pulp Fiction.

Another passage from the translator's note that is interesting to read is the glimpse she provides into the work she had to put in to get those stories translated. Pritham K Chakravarthy says "I spent a year searching through library records for the most popular books, going on wild travels to strange book houses and far-flung homes of the many different authors, artists, and publishers, taking many crazy bus journeys and visiting many coffee houses, and doing a kind of pleasure reading I realized I had been badly missing for the past thirty years."

Sounds interesting, right? Maybe you should pick up a copy and give it a try. I particularly liked the story (no, not Hurricane Vaij! ;) ) "The Rebirth of Jeeva", originally written by Indra Soundar Rajan. I just loved it actually. I am definitely planning to buy some novels by this author (Tam version) the next time I am in Chennai. I need to sharpen my Tam reading skills a bit though!

And of course, kudos and thank you to Pritham Chakravarthy and Rakesh Khanna (the editor) for their work on this book.

Dear Ladies, want to vote for me?

2009-04-28T13:55:00.006+05:30

This is what I wrote to my lady friends. Blogging for posterity!

Dear Lady Friends of mine, (Oh! what a cheesy way to address you guys, uh? I know!)

A contest for Mother’s Day was recently organized by IndusLadies (a community website for Indian Women, if you didn’t know already). Participants just needed to write a blog post on their most memorable parenting-related experience.

Naturally, I with my wannabe writer ambitions (ya, right!) decided to take part and try my beautiful Jupiter luck in winning the $200 high stakes. There were other prizes too like Jaldi 25 (the first 25 entries get an IL letter holder), the top ten entries get IL cap and T-shirt, the third best entry gets $50 and the second best gets $100 (Drool, drool).

All the prizes will be decided solely based on voting online except the Jaldi 25.

I really wanted to win at least the letter holder (but it didn’t look too attractive to me!). But me being me (whatever that is!), procrastinated until the very last date of the contest. But my last-minute burst of 3es (energy, enthusiasm, eagerness – ya invented it just now) that had always stood me in good faith didn’t let me down. I typed at 100 words per minute (believe me, ok?) and completed the post just in time.

Now it’s time for voting. (and some campaigning of course!)

Go have a look here at the fifty entries that poured in from mommies and others across the world. Read them whenever you find time and vote for the one you like best.

My entry is over here on my blog. I am kind of feeling nervous sharing this link with you all (being that this bares my soul to some extent!) but hey if you want to win you can’t be shy, right?

My contest entry is titled “Super-women need to be appreciated too, right?” and is dedicated to my mom. (I am planning to dedicate a post to you all if I win, heheh… cheesy cheesy me)

So… I hope you understood what I am saying here? (I knew you guys are super dooper smart otherwise we’d never have stayed friends **my evil laugh**)

The voting page is here. Go on, vote. Stand up for your friend’s rights (*allow me one dirty laugh here please*).

Make an informed choice though.

Have a nice Labour Day weekend girls.

Until I see you,
Most cheerfully,
VJ, Vaiju, Vaij (and the other million names you may have secretly called me)

The lady with the red flower

2009-04-27T21:41:00.003+05:30

: ) You can guess who that is, can't you?

Super-women need to be appreciated too, right?

2009-04-26T14:06:00.005+05:30

My entry for Indusladies Mothers Day's Contest

My story of birth & pregnancy will be common to many. The excitement, apprehensions, wishes, unreasonable fears…. and the immense joy when you set eyes on your baby for the first time in the birthing room. All these are expected but were such powerful emotions that they completely changed me as a person. As a young woman, daughter, friend, wife, in retrospect, I was a completely different person. But now, I cannot think of myself as anything other than a mom, for reasons more than the obvious. The journey has been extra-ordinary, yes, but that is not the reason am writing this post, this tribute to mother’s day.

One of the best things that I looked forward to, when I was pregnant, was going back to my mom’s house - to her care, undivided attention, affection, and pampering. Perhaps more than the D-day itself! As the youngest child, I always shared a special bond with her – What I’d like to call the unbroken umbilical cord connection (unbroken by another child!). I was always the kind who got mom-sick even if I stayed away for a single day from my mom. But the hormones of the young, and eventually falling in love, took care of my mom-sickness and before I knew it, we were separated by 350 kms - the only contact between us being the “once in two months visits” and the weekly calls. So understandably, I was really looking forward to being with my mom for four months during the last of my pregnancy and after.

My mom is your typical working lady who juggled a million things to take best care of her wards. She was the very humanly version of super-woman I think now, having come to that stage of life myself. But when I think of those four months she took care of me, I am forced to re-think. No super-woman can compare.

The sleepless nights, singing to a colic-stuck baby all evening long, washing the baby’s dirty laundry, taking care of my sis’s kids who had come for the holidays, cooking three different types of food (special one for me, one for the kids, one for others), taking care of the house in general, and going to work from nine to five - all at the same time. Tell me, which super-woman can do this?

I remember this particular day, which had been really difficult on all of us. The baby was refusing to feed, and my breast was becoming painfully heavy by the second. It was the third day after my delivery and I was scheduled to get discharged in the afternoon. My trouble-making hormones were at their best, and the mornings were especially tough for me. That morning might have been the worst - I was at my cranky best and my baby was too. My mom became really worried and started advising me on various ways I could cajole the baby to feed. But I just couldn't take her “nagging.” Inevitably, I picked up a fight with her. She was distraught, I was furious, the baby was crying non-stop. Naturally, our exchange of words reached such an extent that I lost all my control. I disowned her as my mother, in front of my husband, pop, and the hospital staff, with such harsh words that no daughter would have uttered to her mom.

My mom was terribly hurt. But being the fiery lady that she is, she couldn't take the public humiliation her favorite child dished out to her. So she in turn spoke some words to me which pretty much summed up to say “Go back to your dear mother-in-law’s house if you dislike me so much in the next available train.” Having delivered that checkmate, square and proper, she rushed out of the hospital room, leaving me dumbstruck and full of regret. But my ego prevented me from following her.

I tried to create a scene when the time came to leave for home. I ordered my husband to book a taxi to take me back to Bangalore right away. I cried to my father, pointing out the injustice meted to me by his wife. But my anger was fickle and my ego was no help – both of them deserted me quickly and I proceeded to the pre-arranged car (by my mom!) that would take me and the new-born home to my mom’s place.

As we reached my house, my heart started picking up speed. A mix of emotions assaulted me, prominent being fear. Fear on how my mom would greet me. Would she really be cruel enough to send me back to my in-law’s, I thought, without remembering my part in our mahabharath!

But the sight that greeted me as I reached the front door brought tears to my eyes. In fact, it still does when I remember. Mom was waiting, smiling, with the customary aarthi plate ready to welcome me and the baby to her home. The house looked freshly swept and mopped, the floor had beautiful rangoli on it, and she had decorated the house with diyas. A photo of baby Krishna hung over my bed, surrounded by pretty colorful lights. Something for the child to look at, she later told me. A new crib also stood beside my bed, decorated with fragrant jasmine, and her best silk saree. I almost broke down. I couldn’t have got a more royal welcome.

My mom never spoke about what happened earlier in the day at the hospital. She just forgave me my immaturity and embraced me in all her warmth that day and the days that came. But even after that, I never listened to her advices on being a good mom. I had learnt it just by watching her actions and didn’t need the “nagging” words.

We still have our occasional fights. But I am never afraid of going back with a sorry face. You see, I know my mom will always be there for me, waiting with open arms.

And to this day, I can’t think of my child’s early days without hearing the lullabies my mom sang to her. The images of my child as an infant, me as a young inexperienced mother and my doting mother fuses in my mind endlessly. Who was the mom, who was the daughter that needed care, and who was the helpless baby amongst the three of us, I still do not know. Certainly, I was not just the daughter who went to her mom’s for maternity care. Those four months, I was as much a helpless infant as my baby girl. My fifty-four year old mom must have experienced giving birth and the emotional turmoil after all over again alongside me!

PS: After having written this, I think of sharing this with my mom – perhaps reading the above passages to her aloud. As a way of asking sorry to her for my sordid behavior on that day. But I feel shy, terribly shy. I hope I can pick up my nerve to do it. After all, even super super women need to know they are appreciated and loved, right?

The best cubicle in office

2009-04-22T16:55:00.000+05:30

I believe I have got the best cubicle at office. It is right by the corner, separated by a four meter wide wall from the rest of the aisle, facing huge glass windows that look out into the world outside. Admittedly, the view is not ideal. There are new buildings being constructed in the area and there is a settlement of construction workers in their temporary asbestos homes nearby. But a little into the distance, and the horizon, there are only coconut trees and green lands and the blue sky unmarred by the smokes of Bangalore traffic on bright days.

Every once in a while, when I get bored of staring at the monitor, I look away into the window and watch the kids of the workers playing in the fields. They seem to be around four to eight years, three of them, and yet I see them every day. I wonder why they don’t go to school. Then I shake myself up from the corporate bliss and chid myself for not being more in tune with the ground level realities (literally!) that surround the IT parks.

The kids always seem carefree though. Unrestricted in anyway, with parents being away at the construction site, and no school, they do what do the best. Being kids. It is 2:30 in the afternoon, the sun is shining down harsh, but the kids continue to run around and frolic. And I watch, sitting at the best cubicle in office, protected from the heat by the air conditioning, earning to be out there with them in the sun. Freedom is a heavy word most of the times.

Pictures from the Bhadra River Camp

2009-04-16T19:46:00.002+05:30

The view of the camp site from various angles.

Water was calm, cool and refreshing. We did not miss the chance to take a dip even though some of us didn't know swimming. The camp provided us life jackets.

My baby had the fun of her life playing in the sand around the tents. Her fav pass time the entire first night was to throw the sand on any unsuspecting person who happened to pass her.

We were lucky to spot the Green Vine Snake - a very thin green snake which had great strength in its neck which it used to raise itself vertically without support! I got to hold it as well :D

Our camp fire.... and the sumptuous dinner

Finally, what I looked forward to the most at the camp - some birding.

Camping by the river Bhadra – Day 1

2009-04-15T12:33:00.003+05:30

When our car turned into the dusty lane off the highway near Balehonnur into Honne Koppa, it was already 5:30 in the evening. The sky was slowly darkening and all of us were in a hurry to catch our first glimpse of the camp site before daylight faded further. Our initial plan had been to reach the place by three so that we could utilize the afternoon well – maybe do some swimming or even a little trekking. And for me, definitely some birding just before twilight - I had become fascinated right from the beginning, when I first read the description of a hornbill sipping rain with its head almost upside down to catch the water drops in its down-curved beak, when I visited the camp’s Website. Add to that lines that went “Tucked deep inside western ghats, the camp lies at the very epicenter of one of world's richest bio-diversity hot-spot…” Heaven couldn’t have been more welcoming for me – at least from the description!

The direction to the site is simple enough – just follow the single mud road on the right (after Aldur towards Sringeri) when you come across the first signboard of the camp because there is not another! As my husband struggled to keep the car running through the muddy up and down village road, I noticed the surrounding scenery – uh-uh, Coffee plantations. Is this going to be just another resort-types surrounded by cultivated albeit lush green lands? Please God, No! We need a break from civilization, I chanted to myself silently. Just then, we spotted an old man walking the other way and we just had to stop for directions being the city folks that we are. Just go straight and turn left near the huts and keep following the road was his advice. Thanks thatha, we could have figured it on our own given enough time, I muttered when I caught sight of the glowering glance my husband was trying to throw at me. Away from civilization does not mean becoming uncivilized he seemed to be saying. Hmm, if only!

Finally, after what seemed like ten minutes, our vehicles stuttered to a halt outside a rustic hut, made of Bamboos colored green, yellow and blue, with a board reading Bhadra Fishing Camp. This is it. Woo hooo! But wait, there seemed to be no one around! I frantically searched for my mobile to call my contact at the camping site… only to discover that there is no network. Hold on, I clearly remembered the Website mentioning that there is full coverage across the entire camp site. Then up popped another memory – but only BSNL and Airtel. Duh, mine had to be Vodafone! Now what? Fortunately one of the guys in our seven member gang had the Madhavan endorsed connection and I quickly dialed Mr.Vinod Desai, one of the partners of the Bhadra River Camp, a joint initiative between villagers, government and the private sector to bring revenue to the area.

“Come on right in, I will meet you guys half way” said Desai adding “Leave what you don’t want in the car, it’s a long walk”. But dude, I’m travelling with a two year old kid. I can’t leave a single thing in the car lest I may need it in the middle of the night. Imagine! I am the kind who organized fully charged emergency lamps because we had been asked to bring flash lights! So there I was, tearing my hair out trying to leave at least a handkerchief back in the car, when I saw two guys approaching our car. The one in the smart t-shirt and cargo shorts must be Vinod my mind deduced quickly and we exchanged the usual awkward hellos and welcomes of the first meeting. After another ten minutes of nerve-wrecking decisions on what to take and what not, our troupe finally proceeded towards the camp site.

We had to walk for five minutes or about on a two way walking lane (now don’t go hi-fi on me! think village walking paths please!) from the entrance to reach the river side. The first thing I noticed of course was the very civil cottage that was built on a natural rocky hill overlooking the forests around. It looked very welcoming with its portico looking towards the river below. Nice. Very nice. Look, there is our camp site pointed out one of the guys and my eyes widened in delight. Two tents had been hoisted right inside the river on a naturally formed small island that had been barred because of the low waters of summer. Wow. Are we going to stay there we asked. Vinod replied, “Oh yes, that’s your camp but if you want (meaning having a kid in tow), you can sleep here in the cottage as well.” No way, dude. I’m not passing the chance to sleep in a tent for the first time in my life under the open skies surrounded by clean sands and clear waters. Gosh, I’m turning poetic just recollecting the visuals :)

The next twenty hours or so was pure bliss. The Bhadra river which is usually known for its ferocity had turned calm on us, lounging like a content queen in her divan ready to welcome the visitors. The forests around the site (by now there was no sight of those ubiquitous coffee of the region) seemed mysterious, ripe with the promise of wildlife we all wanted to spot. Peter, our assigned guide for the trip, along with Vinod, enticed us with mentions of Malabar Squirrels, Hornbills, Langurs, Bisons, Snakes, Deers, and Otters. Supposedly a group of Otters, also called water dogs locally, had made their home a few kilometers down the river from our campsite. If we were lucky and had time, we could coracle down to spot them, Peter and Vinod promised.

While the rest of my gang wanted to plunge right into the river for a refreshing swim in the night, all these mentions of wildlife had made me anxious for a quick trek around the region. But the whining of five grown men acting like kids with their candies can be quiet off putting. So off we went for our first activity at the camp site – swimming at night.

Accompanied by Peter and another guard we set off to the swimming spot some distance away hiking across the forest. It involved going a little uphill and coming back down again into a small clearing at the banks of the river upstream. Surprisingly, this part of the river was completely free of any protruding rocks and was flowing very gently – in other words, perfect for a swim even without light. The men quickly stripped to their undies (yuck! the sight of grown men in their undies strutting around showing off hairy chests, pot bellies, and what not can be a gruesome sight!) and ran into the river. Splash, splash, splash, splash, splash….Bhadra must have displaced so much of her water elsewhere! Who knows, some poor Otter might even have got shocked at the sudden influx of water from upstream!

For the next half an hour, the rest of three ladies (including my baby) watched enviously the frolicking acts of the men in water. Ha, if only we could swim we thought. Unfortunately, none of us knew how to! Peter must have guessed how we felt for he quickly organized a coracle to take us across to a small clearing in the middle of the gentle river where we could sit with our feet dangling in the cool waters. This is true chilling out you Bangalore folks, Bhadra seemed to whisper. Aye, aye, I agreed.

Before we knew it, it has become ten in the night and we had to haul ourselves reluctantly back to the camp site. After freshening up a little in the newly constructed rest room in the main cottage, we lumbered down the rocks towards our tents. A camp fire had already prepared thoughtfully and we all collected around it to discuss how we would spend the night. I was sure of one thing – no antaksharis and absolutely no games where we would have to sit. For heaven’s sake, this is the only chance we get to run around in open spaces without bumping into a parked car or potted plants I told my gang.

All of us quickly agreed to play Lock and Key (a game where participants who are not able to escape the catcher admit defeat and sit locked to be released (by key!) by other participants who are still free). It was so much fun – to play again, to be so carefree, to act like a kid again – so liberating. We enjoyed ourselves immensely and stopped only after the fatsos decided to call it quits. After a sumptuous dinner, prepared by the village folks and served by Peter and others, we retired for the night quietly, rounding up around the camp fire again.

The night was totally dark. Clouds had formed a curtain around the almost full moon, probably jealous of our hedonistic pass time. The fire kept burning fuelled by the woods gathered from the forest. Occasional strange sounds of the night were heard coming from far from the other side of the river bank – perhaps a bird roused from slumber or an animal caught by a Tiger (the other side of the river touches the periphery of the Bhadra Tiger Reserve). And there was absolute silence. And yet, we felt completely safe - far from the madness of the city, far from the psycho killers, far from the desires of the ego…. Bliss indeed.

Slowly, the blowing winds of the Western Ghats chased away the begrudging cumulus and revealed the moon in all her splendor – to bath the entire camp sight in soft white light. We put off the camp fire and enjoyed the natural light for sometime talking aimlessly. Before long, the aura of the night made some of us get up and wander away from the others – seeking solitude, privacy, and for two, a place where they could relieve their bladders and hoist flags!

That night, we slept in the two big tents provided by the camp organizers – complete with new beddings, pillows and blankets. Comfort in the middle of the wild night. Ha! What more could one ask for? I couldn’t wait to see what the next day would bring.

Off to Agumbe

2009-04-09T11:08:00.003+05:30

The long weekend is finally here and we are off to Agumbe this evening as planned. As per our itinerary, we will first stop at Sringeri then stay overnight at Agumbe to take in the famous sunset point, waterfalls, ARRS, etc., and then move to Hornadu for the Annapurneshwari Temple, and finally end our trip in Bhadra Game Reserve. The reserve apparently is still in development stage and is a late and unexpected addition to our plan. Let's see if it lives up to the description on its site. I'm looking forward to sleeping in tents under the big blue sky near the Bhadra river... wow, can't wait!

Creative writing workshop

2009-04-05T10:07:00.004+05:30

My creative writing classes are coming to a close after eight weeks. Today will be the last session and we will be discussing screenplay. The last few sessions have been amazing. In fact, come to think of it all the sessions were amazing. I will write a detailed review a little later. For now, I just wanted to let you know that the next workshop is coming up in case you are interested. Here's what Still Waters (Vijay Nair's (the person who is conducting this workshop) company) has to say about it:

' “Still Waters” announces a weekend workshop on “Creative Writing” commencing April 12, 2009, at Hotel Ramada. The workshop covers the craft of writing novels, plays, short fiction, poetry and screenplay writing. For more details write to stillwaters@vijaynair.net / vijay@vijaynair.net. '

So go on and register if you want to give creative writing a shot. I'm sure you won't regret it - I don't.

My first canine bite

2009-04-05T09:46:00.002+05:30

It was a totally lazy Saturday. I had just then given bath to the lady of the house and was dusting her with some Johnson and Johnson's. The house dog, Rocky, slept peacefully wedged in the tiny space between the sofa and floor. All was well. I moved a bit to get some more powder for the lady when I suddenly felt something under my foot. At the same instance as my realization, that it is the dog's belly hair, I heard a great snarl coming from under and the next thing I know... my left leg is in Rocky's mouth! Like they show in movies, everything froze in time for a milli-second. The dog with my leg in its mouth, my daughter leaning down to stare at what's going on, my noiseless shock at the silly dog's action, Rocky with his eyes still closed!!!

He must have been as surprised as I am at his own action (he usually just bares his teeth or at the worst snarls when someone hurts him), that he actually bit somebody, he ran away outside as quickly as possible in remorse I like to think. But the vengeful soul that I am, my blood started boiling at the thought of being a hapless somebody under the mercy of a dog's teeth. What has god given me tooth for?? And it (my blood!) reached evaporation point when I examined my leg - it was bleeding! I saw red (all pun intended) and chased down the dog with a stick to give two sound whacks to its rear. It accepted the repercussion of its action rather meekly only to snarl back when I raised the stick the third time. Oops, tolerance point reached. My vengeful nature abandoned me immediately and I ran back inside the house part in fear part in regret! Though of course I was careful not to show the fear to the dog. I didn't want to have a fight with the pet, for heaven's sake!

I paced the house up and down constantly reassuring my daughter nothing has happened to me though the dog is a very very bad dog for biting mom (ya, I am a bad mom I know!). I tried calling my husband to sob out the entire story but the dude didn't bother to pick the phone. Huh, somebody please come! Fortunately, before too long, the dude decided to return back home. The minute I heard the front gate open, I rushed outside to dramatically narrate everything with the intention to get my husband to give his dog an earful first thing when he entered the house. But sadly for me, the first thing he did after hearing me out is take me to a doc for some anti-rabies shots. Does that show he loves the dog more than me or the other way? I couldn't decide.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch - Three for the three shots of anti-rabies, One for the one shot of anti-septic, and the rest for pure effect.

My Saturday was ruined. If only I had watched where I put my foot (usually I put it in my mouth!), and if only the silly dog had not wedged itself under the sofa! Well, I just have to put it down to first experiences in life - first dog bite and a pet's at that! Duh!

I would like to know

2009-04-02T13:54:00.001+05:30

Will I

Watch the Tigers in National Geographic tear
their preys into bloody pieces while the demented man in a local channel
rants behind bars ruing his bloodless kill
And die of a heart attack with murder in my mind

Will I

Dream of the Tsunami in which I never was
my friends were playing cricket I heard and the waves came on to drag
a small boy having fun on an otherwise pleasant day
And I dream of drowning in the high waters of regret

Will I

Read Yogananda and imagine climbing to a mountain top
sit and watch the world go around, grinning
with glee, their stupidity and foolishness delight me
And I forsake the human kind and kill myself for being one

Will I

Visit my grandma in her hospital bed watching the nurse
clean up her body fluids and remember her making
milk sweets for all us kids on nice summer afternoons
And I curl up inside and cry till all of me drain away

Will I

Grow old and hide the baldness in places, it wouldn’t do
for a woman to be bald, especially on her forehead,
read them stories and think of the ones I never wrote
And I lie down quietly and never wake up

Will I

Look at the ceiling fan one day and decide not
to switch it on, look at the kitchen knife and not use it
to cut tomatoes, look how red they are
And thank the people who made them fans and knives

I think I would like to know.

I am a grasshopper

2009-03-25T20:05:00.012+05:30

Ever since I heard the Ant and Grasshopper story when I was young, I have harboured a silent resentment towards ants, red ones in particular. The black ants are okay - I can tolerate them, in fact I enjoy watching them. But the red ones? They are the worst what with the added sting in their bites. Have you ever noticed the difference in behavior between the black and red ants? The red ants seem to be more studious, more committed and more boring while the black ones are interesting- they never look to be going in a single pile, all of them take initiatives and go off in different directions, and they even climb over humans to look for food. Their audacity, their quick movements and their adventurous spirit, and their "never hurt anyone" attitude endears them to me. But that's besides the point. Which is ants in general and the way they were compared to grasshoppers in the aforementioned story.

They (the elders!) shook their fingers in the kids' faces warning them - Do you want to be a grasshopper which died of starvation once winter came or do you want to be the ant which was wise enough to save for the rainy day? If my vocabulary and worldly knowledge was what it is today, I would have probably shown them the middle finger.

I could never understand why anyone would want to work and work and work and save and save and save for a winter that is a long time away?! Why not enjoy life now and then? We will worry about the winter when we come to it. So what if we die of starvation? At least we danced under the sun and sang to the wind.

So continuing from my previous post, I discovered few years ago that I can not be an ant however much I try. I would rather enjoy the now and then than work like crazy for a winter far away. I would rather be alone than have a queen ant presiding over me. I would rather break the line than follow some invisible scent and trodden path! I would rather be a grasshopper than an ant. So there!

PS: BTW, did you know that the average lifespan of a grasshopper is just 4-5 months in the summer? They can't live to see winter even if they want. So whoever wrote or came up with that story needs a lesson in biology!!

Embrace Chaos; Forget "Work/Life Balance"

2009-03-23T17:47:00.005+05:30

Don’t let the title throw you off. Notice the quotes enclosing the Work/Life Balance? Yes, its time we all forget about the traditional “Work/Life Balance” concepts that have been ingrained into our nervous systems. With Technology gaining more and more prominence in the way we lead our lives, it has become near impossible to keep personal and professional lives apart. At least that’s what this new Forrester article titled “Embracing Chaos Is Smarter Than Seeking An Elusive Work/Life Balance” says.

In essence, the article neatly talks about how “Work/Life balance” previously meant a clear time divide – the so called 9 – 5 work culture and after that personal time. But today this is not possible especially for information or knowledge workers. With work roles getting more demanding, hazier, and Technology populism (Google that!) playing havoc, employees can no more be strict about leaving office dot 5 or 6. They are ready to stretch when required and don’t hesitate to take off early on a lean day. They check office email while having dinner and make vacation arrangements while at office. The line between personal and professional work becomes less and less defined while at the same time employees ensure neither is compromised or affected by the other. Agreed. In fact, I loved reading that article. BUT sounds like utopia for me. That is from where I stand.

Give me an office where entry and exit are not tracked by swipe cards
Give me an office where every other site is not restricted and every move the employee makes on his or her computer is not monitored
Give me an office where the manager is more concerned about quality of work and timely delivery and less about your presence in office
Give me a cubicle where I’m allowed to keep my desk the way I want without maintaining a clean desk policy (not even papers allowed, mind you) and where I can listen to music if I feel like it (of course, with a head phone – But some managers have problems with that as well, let me tell you. Strange world, this one!)
Give me an office where I can install instant messengers to chat with colleagues across the World without incurring additional costs for the company– and if that lets my friends see me while am online and ping me, let not the company go “uh uh”
Give me an office culture where I can talk to my colleague who sits across from me with out the manager going “tch, tch”
Give me an office where work output matters and not appearances

I will gladly sacrifice my 9 – 5 attitude. Else, tough luck dude. My 6’o clock cab is waiting for me and I don’t miss it for any reason.

But as I said, this is a strange world. Most of what I said above does not apply to counter parts who sit in the West (for who or on whom this article was written I guess). They are free to clutter their desk anyway which way they want and they are free to visit adult sites if they wish. And let’s not forget – they can talk about going to a Dentist’s appointment with their sons and daughters in an international conference call with ten participants from ten different time zones. And all this within the same company I say - so you can’t get away with saying different company, different policies. So this is only for the offshore – you see, we got to maintain appearances along with other important things.

I did experience utopia just once. Or maybe twice. At my first and second job. Small company, smaller team, bosses who trusted you to get the work done without the need to look over your shoulders. Less irritated managers. Compared to my experiences since then, I can only say I learnt and imbibed the concept of “Work/Life Balance” much later. Much much later.

Ha! memory sure does paint the past rose, doesn’t it?

Terracota/Pottery

2009-03-22T20:56:00.003+05:30

After Writing classes, my interests are now veering towards Terracota and Pottery. In particular, Terracota jewelery design and making. But sadly, I have not been able to find anyone in Bangalore who offers these classes. I haven't given up though - am still searching.

Meanwhile, here's an artisan at work with his pottery - pics I took at a recent visit to Janapada Loka in the outskirts of Bangalore on the way to Mysore. Supposedly, this old man gets Rs.12 per pottery piece he carves and paints and he will be able to make five such pieces every day- effectively getting an income of Rs.60 per day. Looking at the item he was working on, I figured it could easily sell for Rs.150 at an exhibition in Bangalore. But the amount that he gets in the supply chain is a mere pittance. Sad state, indeed.

Confounding!!

2009-03-10T15:43:00.001+05:30

I came across this blog post on the case of missing pets and the inability to unite them back with their family. The first thing that came to my mind immediately after reading it is this. I know this contrasting exercise is stupid and what's more this reminds me of my own youthful self back in college - who cared more about animals and who was very vocal about her views of the importance given to animal rights versus human rights.

Now more than five years later I seem to have made a transition to favoring the other side of the argument. Maybe it's because am a parent now. Or maybe it is because of the slowly penetrating cynicism. No, let's call it maturity of thought (You know...like...."how stupid can humans get? Thinking they can put animals on leash and hold them forever from their true nature, freedom, etc"... or should it be "What loneliness can do to humans?). Or maybe it is a sign of spiritual advancement (ya, right!). Or maybe it is simply because I stay in this side of the world. Whatever. It just seems so strange how priorities and people are so different across continents. No wonder the NRIs hate coming back.

On another note, tagging pets show that you care what will happen to them if they go missing. But a different take on that makes me wonder why humans want to have pets at all. My saucy sister-in-law will probably quip "these pets will be abandoned or without homes otherwise". Now, tell me isn't this like the Hen and Egg story? You want pets, so you breed or rear more and more of them...and then you are constantly looking to find a home for the surplus population... and so on and so forth. Why on earth did man domesticize animals in the first place? Duh, his stupidity is so confounding!

Women 2.0 Summit, Bangalore

2009-03-10T15:24:00.001+05:30

After Web2.0, Marketing 2.0, Research 2.0, Enterprise 2.0, it's finally time for Women 2.0! Thank god!

Ok!Ok! On a more serious note Women2.0 Summit is an event being organized in Bangalore on the 13th of March by SiliconIndia. A glance at the event's agenda looks very interesting. An impressive list of names feature as speakers, and the panel discussion topics seem even more appealing. I'm particularly thinking of attending the discussion on "The Women Entrepreneurs" between 3:30 to 4:00 PM. But the duration allotted (half an hour for this topic versus the one hour for the others) is kind of disappointing - would have loved it to be a longer session.

Anyway, I hope to be there on Friday. The registration fee is a smallish Rs.100/ though I did get an email offer for free entry from SiliconIndia. So all I need to do is muster up that enthusiasm and overcome that reluctance of going alone, and I should be there.

Let's see if my manager will grant me leave (not that it matters if I really want to attend the event!).

Hopeless

2009-03-04T22:03:00.001+05:30

Mornings are always a rush. Shweta hurried out of the house after a quick kiss on her baby’s cheeks and a quicker goodbye to her husband. Life is always difficult for a working mom and today seemed to be especially so. Clutching the brown hand bag with her right hand, and desperately trying to hold the flying dupatta with the other, she jogged down the street to its corner, the designated spot for pick and drop. Her mind lingered on the strong cup of coffee her husband prepared for her every day and she wished she could have had more time to enjoy it. Spotting the cab hurling down at full speed a few hundred meters away, she broke into a run and muttered a silent thanks to the man who woke her up every day on time. Her alarm clock, her husband.

After the regular hellos and smiles at the few others already in the cab, Shweta moved to her usual seat just behind the driver. Heaving a sigh of relief, she settled in for the next two-hour odd journey to her office in Whitefield. Leaning back against the dusty headrest, Shweta closed her eyes looking forward to the rest of the journey. Today would be interesting, she thought. Wonder what they will discuss? Will they be romantic and mushy or will they have their occasional tiffs? She couldn’t wait.

To while away the time before the duo got in, she took a thin book from her bag and stared at the cover for a moment. It was called “The billionaire’s ransom bride” and had an illustrated cover portraying a passionate lip lock between the hero and his bride. Blushing a little at the way the hero’s hand seemed to be clutching the petite lady’s bottom, she turned to the page where she had stopped yesterday to continue reading her dose of mills and boon for the day. She had always been a hopeless romantic and couldn’t tire of these 180-page books even after her marriage. You would think that the real thing would prove more exciting but for Shweta these books had always been more interesting than her own love life!

The cab continued on the route weaving its way through thick traffic like a drunken man running through a crowd. It stopped briefly a few kilometers away and Shankar from the IT support got in. Shweta immediately flopped her bag on the empty seat next to her and pretended to be engrossed in the book. After hesitating for a second, the guy reluctantly moved away into the back of the cab – he always looked forward to sitting with the pretty lady in the front seat but somehow she never seemed to want to! After ensuring that the flirt from support had moved to the back, Shweta snapped her book shut and returned it to the bag. It will just be a few more minutes now before their pick up point arrived. Tiny butterflies started dancing in her stomach and she tried to contain her excitement.

The girl got in first. She was dressed in a beautiful sleeveless white and pink chudhidar and loud accessories to match. In her hand, she carried two bags – one a beige handbag which can only be designer and in the other a Dora embellished bag like the lunch bags kids carry to school. Such a contrast, thought Shweta smiling sillily at the girl. The girl seemed not to notice and took the seat in line with Shweta’s on the other side. They always sat at the same place everyday which is why Shweta also always sought out the seat in front. She wondered if they belonged to the same project. The cab turned down a few more roads to the next pick up point and seeing that there was no one waiting at the spot, the driver pressed his feet harder on the accelerator.

The girl squeaked “Anna, wait maadiii…. bartha idare” (Wait, please…he is coming)

The cab driver braked hard to stop and after a nasty glance at the girl started drilling his hands on the steering wheel impatiently. The clock seemed to tick loudly and everybody waited looking out the windows and door. Suddenly, the girl started smiling, and gesturing to some one in the street. Like the hero in a movie climax, Shashank Gowda ran full tilt and jumped into the cab.

Grinning widely, Shanshank took the seat opposite Shweta next to the girl in pink and white.

“Hi Shweta” he said turning sideways to look at Shweta “Thindi aytha?” (Had breakfast?)

“No, no time!” Shweta turned to smile at Shashank. “Yours?”

“Oh yes” replied Shashank moving back to lean in his seat.

With another silly smile, Shweta turned back to the front and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep for the rest of the journey. If her ears twitched a couple of times to hear better, the couple seated a few distance away seemed not to notice.

“Hello madam….” Shashank murmured in a near whisper “How are we today?”

“I thought you were not coming….. You gave me a scare, the driver almost didn’t stop, you know?” said the girl ignoring his question.

“Oh sorry. I will call you tomorrow if I get late, ok? Then you can tell the driver before hand” Shashank replied.

“Hmm” she said moving slightly to adjust her dupatta. Her bare arms brushed against Shashank’s and both of them fidgeted a little conscious of their proximity in the small space that was supposed to be a two-seater.

“So Div, what did you prepare today?” questioned Shashank.

Oh, her name is Divya, thought Shweta opening her eyes. She had forgotten! Nice name…. Shashank and Divya went well…. didn’t they? She wondered if Divya will take Shashank’s last name if they get married. Divya Gowda…. how does that sound? Hmm, not that great. Hearing them continue, she scolded herself mentally for not paying attention and closed her eyes again.

“Tomato rice” Divya replied, “Want to taste?”

“No, its okay. You won’t have any left for lunch if I open that box now” Shashank said shaking his head.

“Oh” Divya said disappointed. “I thought you liked Tomato…. that’s what you said yesterday!”

“Oh yes, I love them. Ok I changed my mind. Give me the box.” grinned Shashank.

The smell of fried onions, cooked and ripe tomatoes mixed with southern masalas assaulted Shweta’s nose within a few moments making her mouth water. Can Divya cook well? Would she have used the easy pressure cooker method to make the Tomato rice or would have painstakingly cooked the gravy and rice separately? Nah, it must be the former. No one would have the time to prepare the elaborate way in the mornings! And looking at the way the girl dressed up with matching earrings, bangles and even bindhi to boot, she must have surely done it the easy way. Lucky girl, no kid and husband to manage….

“How is it? Like it”? Divya questioned.

“This is delicious, you cook so well” murmured Shashank flatteringly relishing the huge mouthful he had stuffed his mouth with.

Guys can be so crude at times talking with mouth full and all that. How unsightly it must look to Divya thought Shweta. Jeez, hope she doesn’t mind crass guys otherwise Shashank will never stand a chance of hooking her!

“Thanks! Glad you like it” Divya said blushing a little, “I will prepare it in another way and get it tomorrow. It will taste really different but still nice… and it is much faster – I would just have to pressure cook the rice, tomato, and masalas together…”

“Wow, you seem like an expert cook. Even I love cooking….. Though my mom never allows me inside the kitchen. She says I make a mess” Shashank said spooning another mouthful of the delicious looking tomato rice.

“Listen…. maybe you know…. we should kind of meet up a weekend and you can teach me how to make this tomato rice….? I would love to learn…. this is so delicious… my mom can never make anything like this” continued Shashank closing the by-now empty box and handing it over to Divya.

Just then the cab driver took a steep right turn without a leg on the brakes. Sometimes, he thinks of himself as a race motorist. The cab driver. Cursing him mentally, Shweta tried to steady herself from going out the window.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Divya desperately trying to do the opposite clinging to the windows but momentum and gravity seemed to push her to lean hard against Shashank. Her right hand seemed to come up automatically and clutched Shashank and remained there just a bit longer than necessary long after the cab completed the turn.

Oooooh, God! Are they at the next stage already? thought Shweta trying to remember what that anthropologist Desmond Morris spoke of in his book “The Naked Ape” about the stages leading to copulation.

“Sure…..” Divya replied taking her box back from Shashank and keeping it in her lunch bag.

“Hey, new bag?” Shashank inspected the character printed on the bag “Who is this? New cartoon?”

“You don’t know? That’s Dora?” Divya proudly pronounced, “She is all the rage these days. Kids love her… and the monkey next to her is Boots”

“Wow, you seem to have learned all about them………… along with….”

Nice trick Shashank. But you need to be a little more subtle than that. I can spot your interest a mile away and Divya may find you too fast worried Shweta. She hoped not. Over the last few weeks, she had listened in on their conversations unashamedly and had come to look forward to the cab ride every morning. Her novel faded in comparison to the live love story that was developing in front of her eyes. And the desperate “happily ever after” seeker that she is, she imagined all their back and forths must be because of their interest in each other.

“Along with Kriya” continued Shashank “So how come you are carrying her lunch bag”

Hey, wait a sec. Who is this Kriya? Shweta had never heard that name mentioned before.

“Well, Kriya had to stay back at home today because she has a bad cold. My husband is looking after her…… so I took her bag! After all she takes my stuff all the time” answered Divya.

Shweta eyes popped open and she saw Shashank grinning down at Divya telling her something. They both laughed out loud. Shweta couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. She couldn’t believe her own stupidity. The loud honks from the traffic suddenly increased in volume and seemed to drown out every other noise. A bike screeched to a halt next to the cab that had just stopped for a red light. The pillion rider, a young girl, fell on the bike rider and immediately gave him a sound whack on his shoulder. Shweta could not hear what she said but she seemed to be affectionately chiding the guy in the front.

Dejected and disappointed, Shweta turned away and took out her mills and boon from the bag. She tried to muster up interest in the hot chemistry sizzling in the pages between the tall hero and his petite heroine. Well, at least these guys are predictable, she sighed.

Naan Kadavul

2009-03-04T22:03:00.000+05:30

I watched the Tamil movie Naan Kadavul two weeks back. It was simply super dooper fabulous to say the least....and the best movie I have seen in sometime. Admittedly, it does showcase the harsher side of life - so if you are the kind who cant bear to take it then maybe you should stay away. I am planning to write a review soon - perhaps as a way to thank the Naan Kadavul team. I hope I get to it!

This Valentine season....

2009-02-16T08:21:00.003+05:30

This Valentine weekend, the Ram Sena group headed to Lalbagh, Bangalore to ensure couples do not indulge in too much fun and frolic. However, members of the group were seen in compromising positions themselves and some were even seen neglecting their duty totally to chill out with the likes of other couples that were present. Shocking indeed to the larger community who rely on them to keep the couple menace in Lalbagh under control. Exclusive shots below.

Um, sort of!

2009-02-10T15:01:00.003+05:30

Person A: Do you get up in the morning everyday and cook? Must be hard!
Person X: No! Noway!
Person A: Oh! So how come you bring packed lunch to office everyday?
Person X: Well…..
Person A: You have a cook?!
Person X: Um, sort of! I have a mother in law…..

Hmm, thank god for good and able mother in laws. Touch wood!

Pleasing others

2009-02-10T14:58:00.002+05:30

Do you know any animal, plant, or any other living thing in this world other than man which tries to please another individual of its species? Fight definitely, seduce yes, love maybe, but please? Only man, I think, wants to please another man.

When I say please here, I would obviously like to make it distinct from other actions. Pleasing to me seems like something that is done with an ulterior motive. It is an act shrouded with niceties on top with a hidden interior. The act of pleasing itself is not the goal; the individual who is trying to please another is actually trying to get something else done. Maybe get the other person to like him, love him or give him something. Maybe it’s all about approval and acceptance.

Why do we want to please others? Why can’t we just say it as it is? Live it as it is? Why worry about what others think of you? Why worry about getting others to like you? Why care?

Why worry about fitting in?

Whatever!

PS: I read this somewhere in a blog.... “You don’t fit in because you were born to stand out” .....Loved it.

Edited to add: I came across an interview with Yvonne Foong in a newsletter, and when I went to her blog I found a post titled "Pleasing people is stressful, then why do it?". Yes, pleasing others is awfully stressful and if you are compelled to do it for an important cause (like Yvonne), it will be even more nerve-wrecking. Hope Yvonne gets all the support she requires, financially and otherwise.

Of diseases, ailments…. and thoughts

2009-02-10T09:08:00.001+05:30

I read these two pieces of articles today that got me thinking about ailments, diseases, and their cures & treatments. At first glance, the articles appeared totally un-connected. The first one talks about this new method of treating Cancer – threateningly yet comfortingly named “CyberKnife”. It is a robotic radio surgery system which has been imported to India for the first time that will enable Cancerous cells to be destroyed through minimal surgery without affecting the surrounding tissues. The procedure is completely automated, does not require any monitoring by doctors or experts, and the patient gets cured of Cancer within as short a time as a week compared to the 5-6 weeks treatment under the traditional surgical method of Cancer treatment. The article makes one imagine the patient getting up and walking away after the surgery (maybe a few days later), returning to the life as he knew it (at least the semblance of one) before he discovered the disease.

The second article is about the holistic healing of mind and body. It is an excerpt from a book called “Heal Thyself” and talks about how treating diseases with just material intervention is totally useless. The excerpt starts with saying that diseases are manifestations of the unrest between mind and soul in the physical body. It is merely a symptom of disquiet in your self (beyond the physical body) and treating just the physical body is like doing away with just the symptoms and not really the underlying cause of the disease.

Now, let’s go back to the first article on CyberKnife. By just killing the cancerous cells in one’s body if one can do away with their disease it is wonderful. But what about the underlying cause of those cancerous cells? How did they come about? What caused them? What is the guarantee that they won’t recur again? In a few words, no. No guarantees. The doctor (or the robot computer) does not know why the patient got Cancer but what they can do about it is to make sure the Cancerous cells are destroyed. Maybe as fast as the body can produce them. So in essence, the procedure only treats your symptom- in this case the undisciplined cells, and not what caused the Cancer.

I am not being harsh. I do not expect people to live with their Cancers…..We all seek to get cured of the different ailments and diseases that strike us as quickly as possible, and if they can be done away with by a simple visit to the pharmacy, we are happy. Take for example, my daughter contracting the ordinary cold. By principle (and psychological fear of medicines), I avoid taking tablets and hope to get cured naturally (by which I mean letting my body take care of itself, believing in its immune system, and plain and simple willing myself to get cured). So I am trying to pass on this belief and follow the principle with my baby as well. I do not give her any medicines for the first two days. I watch her suffering with her dripping nose, put up with her irritable mood, struggle with feeding her, and generally get dejected myself before succumbing to the temptation of an OTC drug. I am relieved when I watch her breathe easy next day. My husband and in-laws are happy too with an “I told you so” expression in their face silently chiding me for not giving her the syrup at the first sign of a leaky nose.

With a passing thought to my principle, I forget all about the situation and we all get on with our life. I console my mind saying that I can’t impose my principle on others and make them suffer for it. If my daughter can get well within a day by taking medicines, by all means she should. Why would I put her through those miserable two days in the name of natural curing?

Now, if the situation were to be about me…….. My principle does hold good better than that. That is, if it is just a cold. Give me something worse than that, I’m as susceptible to human temptation as anybody else. For instance, some of the worst diseases/ailments that happened to me physically were Malaria, Jaundice, and an arm ‘almost-fracture’, not to mention those endless hours of toothache. I have memories of twisting and turning long into night in pain and “something else” which only the diseased know about. I would have gladly worshipped the docs who had treated me. No natural cure for me sir, no. Bring on those painkillers and antibiotics as soon as you can get them, please.

Ha! How fickle the mind is. How vain in touting principles.

Now coming back to Cancer and treating the underlying cause. I had this friend once whose father had died of Cancer. During one of our many conversations, we happened to discuss that and what he said about his father’s death made profound sense to me. His father had been fighting with Cancer for a long time before he succumbed to the disease. My friend remembered his father as a strong man, some one who never believed in defeat and who always fought till the end. He was the kind who wouldn’t let anything affect him much, not even the most terrible of diseases. So naturally, even after he discovered his disease, he kept up his good spirits and those around him. But soon, the pain and suffering caught up with him. But he fought for years. And his family really believed that he would come out of it. Until the day before his death. That day, his father just admitted defeat. He became mentally exhausted and told his family that he couldn’t take it any more. He was giving up. He died the next day. To this day, my friend believes that his father did not die of Cancer. He died because he chose to die. He died because chose not to fight any longer.

This leads me to another thought (or theory if you will) that I have heard about Cancer. They say that Cancer is just a manifestation of the fear of death in your mind. You fear dying and slowly the cells in your body get that message. They start refusing to die themselves. And there you have it, uncontrolled growth of cells that don’t die. Cancer in other words. Yes, all of us fear death in one way or another but maybe those who get Cancer are more afraid of it than the rest. Maybe it is more psychologically deeper than that. The theory goes on to add that ultimately the cure to Cancer is tackling that fear in your mind. Just accepting death as a natural consequence of being born. If only that was as simple as it sounds.

Tying all this back to the article on holistic healing of mind and body….. One does need to be really strong to believe in one’s own sense of healing. Healing both mentally, physically, and spiritually. Not giving into the easy ways of curing just the physical body. Difficult. Very difficult indeed.

Eat Poop, You cat!

2009-02-08T19:11:00.000+05:30

I played this game called "Eat Poop You Cat" at a recent class of mine and it turned out to be really funny! The game is similar to "Chinese Whisper" aka "Telephone" with a bit of pictonary thrown in. Though originally I had intended to have the students play "Chinese Whisper", "Eat Poop You Cat" sounded even better when I read about it in Wikipedia.

The way it is played is simple - You start off with a phrase, the person next in line draws a picture to represent the phrase, the person after gives it a heading (phrase), the next one draws again and the next gives it a phrase again and so on and forth. Of course, participants should not show their phrase or drawing to anybody else other the immediate one next to them. So by the time the game moves to the last player, the first phrase is completely distorted and least resembles it! And it is totally hilarious. If you don't believe me, check this out. Somebody has made the effort to capture some of the "Eat Poop You Cat" games people have played.

Traditionally, the game is played on a single sheet of paper with participants folding the filled part to conceal it from the subsequent players. But since my class had lot of students, we decided to have each one write/draw in their own paper and just show it to the next person for a brief while before taking it back. I collected the papers from all of them at the end and we had a good laugh going through the evolution my phrase (I started it) went through! I'm sure it would have even more funny if I had not warned the students to refrain from obscene or sensitive phrases/drawings. Being a facilitator made me a prude :(

Anyway, check out the results for yourself below.... how my starting phrase "The crocodile smiled at the silly green bird" became "Four of them laughing"!!!!!

The Crocodile smiled at the silly green bird

The Snake is trying to eat the Chicken

A person harrasing another with false words (!)

A person is scolding someone

Jolly days with team mates (!)

Lucky boy with 2 gals (!!!)

A group of people talking

Four people standing together and discussing

4 cartoon standing... they are talking to each other

Four of them laughing

BTW, if you want to know how the name of the game came about, I have no clue. I'm as curious as you. A prelim search on Google didn't reveal anything great!

Can’t wait for happily ever after (The final part)

2009-02-05T14:16:00.001+05:30

(Read Part 1)
(Read Part 2)

Priyam returned to the present with a bang and felt herself being shaken. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into Ram’s fierce eyes.

Ram looked at her tenderly and asked, “Priya, where did you go? Were you thinking of our days together 7 years back?”

Pushing herself away from him, Priyam stepped back and with a deliberate intention to hurt said, “No, Ram. Am just thinking of how to get rid of you this time round like you did me the last time”

“Stop it” cried Ram, “How can you expect a 21 year old to leave all the life he had known and dreamed for, and elope with the girl he had met just a year back?”

“I had fallen in love with you with too, Priya, but I had not been prepared for marriage so soon. I had wanted to make something of myself before committing myself. But you had been in too much of a hurry…….” he continued, going on to explain how he had come over to her house the next day only to find she had left home. He had been sad too but he had dreams he wanted to accomplish and he had moved on.

“But not a day went by without me regretting the way our relationship ended, Priya. Please believe me”, he ended sincerely.

With each word he spoke, Priyam felt her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Oh, my god, what had she done in her foolishness. In her hurry to get her happily ever after, she had spoilt their tender relationship. Priyam could hold her tears no longer and she broke into heavy sobs. Ram gently gathered her to him, tucked her into his strong arms, and started rocking her back and forth.

“Hush, My kitten, Come on now, it’s okay” he whispered “There’s time enough for that later.”

“What do you mean?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking, hoping.

“Well” he grinned, “Just that I don’t plan to let you run this time and you have all the time in the world to fling your accusations. For now, can’t you be content with enjoying our first night together?”

Can she dare hope? Is he saying what she is thinking? But this time around, she will not rush to grab her happily ever after. No, sir, she is going wait…. for it to come to her.

Almost shyly she whispered, barely audible, “Yes.”

Can’t wait for happily ever after (part II)

2009-02-05T14:11:00.005+05:30

(Read Part 1)

Priyam didn’t want to recall the details of that fateful day. But her mind did not listen and she was instantly thrown back into time. She felt herself being surrounded by the sounds, sights and smell of her life seven years back. She saw herself, an innocent and beautiful Priyam, walking hand in hand with a handsome looking Ram, strolling in the deep gardens of Bangalore in the hour just before Sunrise. They had had the habit of jogging together in the mornings but that day had been different.

They had met at college during their final year, she a communications student wanting to be a journalist and him a technologist studying computers. They had been so different from each other – as different as extreme opposites can get. She had been outgoing while he was ever the brooding one. She had been content with life’s small pleasures while he had wanted the moon. She spoke one language and he another. The list went on.

But their chemistry had been undeniable even back then and she had had no resistance. She had fallen deeply in love with him and had wanted to spend most of her waking hours with him, ever mindful of the end of term when they may be forced to part ways. Like the young and foolish do, she had never thought about their dramatically different backgrounds.

She had thought their love can overcome all the differences, she had dreamed of a happily ever after. On that particular day, they had met up for their jog as usual. She had been feeling particularly nervous. The term was scheduled to end in another week and she had wanted Ram to utter the reassurances she sought.

Save for a few joggers, they had had the park to themselves. They had decided to take it easy that day and agreed on a leisurely stroll around the park. Of course, they had stopped frequently and after looking around to ensure nobody was watching, had kissed each other repeatedly. Their desire had only heighted with each kiss they shared. Priyam had been thrilled when Ram had taken her face in his hands and murmured his first “I love you” to her.

Throwing caution to the winds, she had poured out her feelings to him and had asked him to marry her. Ram had seemed taken back, even shocked initially but he had quickly recovered and had uttered “Sure” in his normal quiet fashion. That had been enough for her. She had made all the arrangements and she had wanted it to be a big surprise for him. Stupidly, she had thought she will offer herself to him and he would find it impossible to say no. Oh, how could she have been so foolish?

When her parents had temporarily gone out of town, she had thought it a heaven sent opportunity to prove her love to him. His initial hesitation at her proclamation of love had been increasingly sneaking up in her thoughts making her uneasy. So she decided to take their relationship to the next level to show him she truly loved him and had invited him over to her house for the night in the pretext of studying for the final exams together.

She had even dressed up in sexy lingerie. When Ram knocked the door, she had almost screamed in joy. Yes, he had come over which must only mean he really loved her back. She had opened the door, ushered him inside, and had dramatically taken off her clothes in an attempt to seduce him. She had expected Ram to take her into his arms or at least stare at her but she had never imagined what he said next.

“Priya, what do you think you are doing?” Ram had cried bending down to take her discarded robe and handing it to her, “Come on, get dressed. Let’s get started with our books.”

Oh, she had been mortified. She had wanted to bury herself ten thousand feet below the Earth and never surface. Their relationship had gone downhill from then. The next few weeks had been tense with exams and the shadow of her actions on that night. She had felt like a swimmer out of depth desperately trying to stay afloat. She had tried to convince herself that it must have been his sense of honor that must have made him do what he did. He must have wanted to wait till they were both independent before taking the big step. She had tried hard, really hard to deny it had been anything other than his love and honor that had come in the way. Oh, she had been foolish.

On the last day of exams, she had sent him a note declaring her undying love adding that she will be waiting for him. She had suggested for them to run away somewhere, perhaps go on a vacation to sort their life. She had packed her bag and had gone to the designated place to wait for him. She had waited…….. till the clock had continued turning to announce the dawning of another day. She had not wanted to believe that he wouldn’t come…. But he had never turned up. And she had never seen him again. In her anger over her own foolishness, she had not returned home and had taken a train to another city and another life. Oh, she had been so foolish…..

Can’t wait for happily ever after (part I)

2009-02-05T14:10:00.003+05:30

The room was silent except for the whisper of bodies rubbing against each other and the rustle of sheets. After what seemed like just a few minutes of loving but in reality over a couple of hours, Priyam and Ram lay back breathing heavily, content and exhausted. What had they done, thought Priyam. She had been so careful all these years and for this to happen now is the cruelest thing that can happen to her. Oh, how can she do this to herself? She had denied herself love and pleasure the past few years knowing that she will get hurt otherwise. Isn’t one hard lesson enough in one’s life?

They had met again at their class reunion. She had never expected him to turn up which was why she had thought it safe to go. After all, how many technology hotshots turn up for reunions? So she had really been shocked when she had spotted him in the party and had tried sneaking away without being noticed. But fate had had other plans and before long they had bumped into each other in spite of her calculated moves to avoid him.

One glance from him and she had felt like her 20 year old self all over again. Naïve and susceptible to silly emotions. She had pretended she had not been affected meeting him but what she had not counted on was the inescapable chemistry they had shared. She had tried hard to remain unaffected but somehow he seemed determined to charm her. And before long one thing led to another and they found themselves alone in her apartment. She did not even want to think about what transpired after that though admittedly it had been the most wonderful thing that had happened to her.

It had been their first time together and it had been all that she had imagined and more. Priyam stared at the ceiling and wondered what will happen next. They had already broken up once and she was not sure she could take it again. Oh no, not again.

Moaning like an animal in pain, Priyam quickly gathered her clothes and rushed to the bathroom without glancing at the tall lean figure in the bed. Ram can take care of himself for after all doesn’t he have the most perfect and successful life of all in their class? Others are not so fortunate, especially her. She had no time to revel in this aftermath of intense loving, however she longed to. Dawn will break soon and with it reality will descend on them like a heavy shroud of mist. She had no strength left to face it with him. She needed to be alone. She needed to protect herself.

After hurriedly getting dressed, Priyam returned to the room and tried to get some semblance of order back.

“Aren’t you getting dressed? Your family must be missing you” she tossed at him angrily.

“Priya, don’t. Please don’t” he replied, “There is time enough for that later.”

"Ya right. When?” she retorted, “When you are thousands of miles away, safe from me?" she shouted with a shrill laugh trying hard not to give away any of her emotions.

"This should never have happened” she cried almost in a whisper.

“Yes, I know” Ram said, infuriating her even more.

“You bastard, how dare you? How dare you stand there and say that to me after all these years? After all that happened? If at all anything shouldn’t have happened, it was me meeting you. Oh, how I wish I had never met you” she hurled hurtingly at him.

Ram got up from the bed and started getting dressed but not before she noticed him flinch. Priyam immediately wished she could take her words back. Was it possible she might have hurt him?

“Priya, I never meant to hurt you” Ram said hesitatingly. “Can’t you forgive me for what happened in the past?” he murmured. “For heaven’s sake, I was just 21!”

“Forgive?” whispered Priyam, “Yes, I can forgive you Ram but I will never forget. You left me alone…. I trusted you……”

Passion Writing Contest

2009-02-05T14:06:00.001+05:30

The passion writing contest came out with the winners today. Can't wait to read the winning entries. Meanwhile, since my pathetic attempt at a romantic story failed to impress, I may as well publish it here at least for posterity sake. Here comes "Can't wait for happily ever after".

Creative Writing

2009-02-02T17:12:00.008+05:30

I chanced on an ad for a Creative Writing Workshop at Bangalore in DC sometime back and immediately got intrigued by the idea of attending one. The ad gave very little details except for the start date and the name of the company (Still Waters) that is conducting it. Though I was clear about pursuing something related to writing in the long run, I was not sure if creative writing is the field I wanted to get into. And I had never heard of the company either. I toyed with the idea of actually calling up the contact number that was given in the ad for a day or two. For the past month or so, I had been looking at taking the diploma course in writing offered by Indira Gandhi University or Symbiosis but unfortunately, I had missed the term this time. So with a few more months to go before the universities took their next set of students, I was feeling kinda impatient to get started with something related to writing. So when I saw that ad, quiet accidentally at that (I never read DC - my household peruses ToI!), it seemed like serendipity!

I eventually rang them up and after seeing the workshop agenda, quickly decided to enroll for the session. The 8-week long workshop is conducted by Vijay Nair, author of "Master of Life Skills" and will cover "craft of writing short stories, novels, playwriting, poem and screenplay writing." The fees for the workshop was Rs 7000/- for working professionals. Deciding that it's a small amount for learning a life skill (ya, that's what I am hoping it will become, at least partly!), I signed up.

The first session of the workshop happened this weekend and the experience was humbling to say the least. The participants were all from diverse backgrounds - engineer, architect, doctor, housewives, college kid, teachers....you name it, we had it! There were a couple of writing exercises (obviously!) after which we were supposed to read aloud our pieces and the others were invited to comment on them. I had thought I was decent at writing but well the feedback from the others hit right where it mattered. Ouch! Oh ye Ego of mine, quiet now, quiet. Ha! That's like a good girl. Good.... I digress!

The workshop has put the idea of serious writing into my idea and I'm happy for it. Over the next few weeks, I expect we will be doing more of these exercises in different forms of creative writing and also doing some reviews of books. So at the end of eight weeks, if nothing else, I will come out far more wiser on whether I really want to pursue creative writing. Here's to humbling experiences!

Is this a bug?

2009-01-23T14:02:00.003+05:30

Well, this is what happened. I had logged into Gmail, Reader, and my blogger account. A friend had sent me a huge music file in Gmail and I was in the process of downloading it. Meanwhile, since I was done with Blogger, I clicked on the Sign out link absentmindedly and to my irritation, found that I had got logged out of all the other Google services as well including Gmail. I realized this after Google Chat kept saying 'connection lost, trying now'.

So now considering that I had logged out, shouldn't the file download that I was doing from my Gmail stop? Nope! It didn't. It happily kept downloading the file from the Google mail server. I am like... shouldn't this also stop? I mean what if I was in an browsing center or something and I had forgotten about the download, and in a hurry just signed out? Isn't this a security related thingie? Maybe, maybe not! I was just surprised!

Burger comes to the Bull

2009-01-23T13:24:00.000+05:30

Move over, kadalekai! The mighty burger is here.

McDonalds has opened a new outlet in the oldest part of Bangalore. Our Basavangudi Bull Temple Road can now boost of easy access to french fries and burgers!

I'm not sure if I am delighted or nostalgic.

Internet Restrictions at your office? Here are some ways to relieve your pain and frustration

2009-01-19T16:40:00.000+05:30

If there is an internet access policy at your workplace and most other sites are restricted & you can’t browse to your heart’s content, and if you are feeling like any of the below statements, then continue reading this blog to get some therapy.

Are you feeling anything closer to these?

a) Search that stupid guy who came out with the policy and give him a nice sounding whack right where it hurts. Also ban him from using the Internet and other related medium ever in his life again.
b) Take the computer you are working on and throw it at the wall. Once, twice and however many times it takes to unblock the sites you wish to browse.
c) Brood silently all day long, curse everyone from your manager to the CEO, and watch the clock till you can get to your PC and total freedom thereafter.

If you are, read on.

Alright, now that you are in the same league and we are kindred spirits, welcome on board. I realize you are in desperate need of some therapy. Though I can’t do much to get your company to pull out this policy (they have their own reasons, believe me!), what I can and will do is show you some ways in which you can satisfy your addiction without running headlong into that wall, firewall.

First things first. You have to establish what you really want to do on the net while at work. Is it just browsing randomly from site to site looking for interesting tidbits of information or is it to access personal emails or is it for chatting with friends or social networking or is it for reading blogs? The following methods may not work well if you are looking to do few of the above like chatting and social networking but for the others there are workarounds that will make your work life relatively stress free. So ok, without further ado…

The most obvious thing to do to bypass restriction is to find proxies. Proxies are special Web servers that enable you to access restricted sites by fetching the said Web page and displaying it from their servers. So if your company has blocked sites based on the servers it has been hosted on, or its type, you can use proxies to access the blocked sites.
Try alternate links for the same site. I know this is dumb but believe me the filtering software/firewall can be even more dumber. For example, www.picasa.google.com was blocked in my company and by chance one day I tried www.picasa.google.co.in and voila, it worked : ) Get the idea? Try with the “www”, without it, try different domains, etc., etc.
Search for mirror sites of the Web site that may still be accessible.
When it comes to personal email, you can do either of these two:
a. Create filters in your email and set up forwarding for specific senders and subjects’ emails to your official email (don’t blame me if you incur the wrath of your information security guys!)
b. Be content with just seeing the email subject and snapshot through the Mail Preview in your service provider’s home page. For example, “My Yahoo” and “iGoogle.”
If it is blogs or personal sites that you want to read, it is an easy one. Just subscribe to the site feeds through RSS and access it through a Feed reader like Google Reader or even your browsers. If you are looking to publish a blog post, Blogger allows you to email blog posts to their server to be published almost instantly. I am sure the other blog service providers also let you blog via email. The only snitch here is that you may not be able to format it well, and in case there’s a mistake you want to correct in a published entry you have to wait till you get home. Duh!
If you happen to encounter the devil while “re”-searching in Google or other search engines, and it does not let you access your search results, don’t worry. Remember you can still see the site by clicking on “Google Cache.” Isn’t that a blessing?
Use the IP address of the site instead of the Web address. Easy this one, uh?
Another method which I read about is to access a site through language translator sites. Not sure how well this works though. Got to try this one out soon.
There are some software that work like proxies and let you bypass the restrictions at work but I wouldn’t recommend them.
If none of the above works, then all I can suggest for you to relieve your addiction is to head out to News sites like BBC, Times and such (surely your company does not block them as well? Mine doesn’t, thank heavens!) and read, read and read the site contents till you get your fix.

If none of the above works, then God save your company! Sooner or later, they will have to contend with employees quitting over Internet restrictions ;)

While we are at this, check out a cool “campaign to end business blocking of employee access to the Net”. Stopblocking, I heart thou!

The most “outlandish” ideas I’ve cited while resigning from work

2009-01-19T14:28:00.000+05:30

While some people do not care what reason they give while resigning, there are those that really think hard before dishing out a reason to their boss. Never mind whether that reason is the real one or not. It’s just that the second set of people care about impressions. Those could range from the boss’ opinion, worrying about maintaining good relationship with the boss, hurting sentimentalities, shielding the real truth (which might be “I feel like kicking your ass everyday so I better quit before I end up doing it”) to plain & simple wanting to be different (to themselves!).

Though I do not have experience of handling resignations, I have been on the other end tendering the letters to my various bosses. Out of the five odd times that I have decided to move on, four of them have been very difficult for me. In fact, those few weeks or days have been almost traumatic with me oscillating wildly between quitting and not quitting. And of course there was this one doom’s day when I had to actually muster up the courage, enter the manager’s cabin, and somehow convince him to relieve me quickly. Luckily or unluckily, all my managers have been reluctant to let go and have played their games to try and retain me. But like a bull in front of a red flag, my resolve to resign had only firmed up further the more they tried to retain me.

So today I got thinking about the different reasons I had given to get the boss’ nod to move on. Though these have been valid at that point of time, they seam really outlandish to me now and at times even makes me laugh at my younger self. For example, to one particular guy who also happened to be my first boss, I said that I dreamed of becoming a zoo keeper and needed to resign as soon as possible. I am not sure if he is believed me but he was sure impressed. In fact, he was so taken in with my silly reason that even today he keeps checking with my friend about what am doing in life! I guess he must be disappointed that I didn’t follow through with my dreams.

The next time I landed up in the same situation was some four years later. This time around I had formed a special relationship with my boss. Now, now, don’t let your dirty minds wander. It was strictly professional but also spiritual as we shared the same spiritual interests/beliefs. Go on, we are listening, you say? Ok! Well, this particular boss was heaven bent on making me attend some spiritual workshop. And my boyfriend was hell bent on convincing me otherwise because he was so freaking afraid that I will renounce material life and turn into a saint! Ha, ha, ha! Anyway, to continue, I as usual was torn between attending and not attending the workshop. So while this fiasco was going on, I decided to tell my boss that I wanted to move on from his company. Man, was that a horrible day or what? I almost cried during that meeting. I was feeling so bad leaving that particular company but what to do? My itch was relentless. And my boss was so desperate to retain me. Gawd, it was terrible. The reason I quoted during that meeting was self-discovery. Now don’t ask me to explain that one!

The next time, I told the big shot (over phone!) that my husband got an overnight transfer to a romantic city in France and that I had to follow him immediately the loving wife that I am! LOL. That guy got so freaking angry and annoyed that he started questioning me about the kind of visa one needs to get to Paris. I blabbered some nonsense and hung up the phone in a hurry : ))

So now am thinking.....what other outlandish ideas are there that catch my fancy?

Import and Export Blogs

2009-01-18T12:43:00.001+05:30

Blogger has this fantastic feature that let's you export your blog and import it into another. What better way to test it than merging both my sense and nonsense blogs into one?

Though I started Whims of the Cosmos with the intention to keep it clean (meaning publishing only stuff that makes sense and not any of my ramblings), it's too much trouble to maintain two blogs. So here goes, sense and nonsense combined into one.

My Tall, Dark and Handsome hero, here I come!

2009-01-14T12:47:00.000+05:30

Ever since I read my first Harlequin romance at the age of thirteen, I got hooked. I am sure I must have read over a five hundred of M&Bs by now. To say that I was a M&B fan would be an understatement! I used to devour them like crazy - day in and day out. I guess the maximum number of M&Bs I have ever read in a single day was three - like a movie freak, I took them shows one right after another. So naturally, there came a time when my library ran out of fresh stock of M&Bs - I had read every single book and some even twice. I was desperate. Like a Heroin addict, I searched for another source of books.

Eventually I started buying some on my own - sometimes from roadside shops, sometimes from second hand shops, and at times even brand new ones though they were a major dent on my pocket money. They used to cost around 150 those days - too much for my 500 rupee allowance. But thankfully, I soon found another library that had an even more amazing collection of these books. Days and nights went flying while I lived blissfully immersed in the world of M&B fantasies. While my other friends worried about crushes and marks, I was busy travelling in Italy and Greece with my dark-haired heroes and petite heroines. Ha, life was a dream.

Like all good things, my obsession with M&Bs also slowed down and I even stopped reading them all together once I started with my MBA. But not before I had vowed to myself to become a M&B author - In fact, if I remember correctly, I had even written a chapter or two of a novel like M&B in one of those bad days when there was no book to read.

With time though, life caught up and I was forced to abandon my dream world. A few years went by when I didn't even have a glance at a M&B - I had become least interested in them by now. My tall, dark and handsome heroes remained firmly where they belong - in fantasies and books, alone! That is until recently when I decided to pick up a few books on a visit to Landmark. I was getting hooked again slowly.

But what's got me super excited right now is not because I rediscovered my hobby. It is what I heard at a chance conversation in the office lunch table. My dear Harlequin is looking for Indian authors. They are in fact conducting a short story competition for romance authors. Wow! Is this a life time opportunity or what? I thanked my lucky stars that I had joined my team for lunch on that day - otherwise, am sure I would have missed knowing about the contest. As it is, the last day for entry is 21 Jan 2009. Barely a week to go. I better get cracking. My tall, dark and handsome hero, here I come!

The good samaritan that I am, if you would like to know more details of the contest, you can have a look here - Mills and Boon Passion Writing Contest. Be sure to thank me if you enter the contest and win! :)

Why is working for small companies better than working for the big shots

2009-01-06T12:16:00.000+05:30

1. No Internet restrictions
2. Complete autonomy (which translates to more responsibility obviously)
3. Better visibility - with managers, big bosses, and customers
4. Opportunity to get involved in diverse opportunities - organizing fun events, "b*tch about my colleagues" projects, etc., etc. without fearing management action
5. Faster growth
6. Closer friendships and relationships (ahem!) with colleagues
7. You can watch TV in the recreation room from 1 till 4 in the evening and get away with it
8. Laugh at a senior in meetings till you are red in the face and all you may get in return is an indulgent smile
9. People believe they are owners of their work assignments - They care
10. Call for meetings when you are bored; you are sure to get 100% attendance :)
11. Friendly IT and HR staff
12. Colleagues are more willing to cover for you
13. You know what the person sitting in the next cubicle is doing; sometimes even what the office boy is doing
14. Oh, how can I forget? The security and the office boys are so nice and they are out to please you if only you show them a little courtesy - say Good Morning and smile at them everyday - in other words, treat them as anyone else in the company
15. Get called Madam (or Sir!) - Oh, I just love that!
16. People trust you not to steal company sensitive data and become an overnight millionaire selling it in ebay
17. Most importantly, you have time for your personal life. Whether it is blogging, Twitting, just browsing the net, reading, writing or falling in Love
18. And before I forget, NO INTERNET RESTRICTIONS
19. Oh, did I mention NO INTERNET RESTRICTIONS
20. One last time, NO INTERNET RESTRICTIONS

And now the negative side of it

1. Lower salary (maybe)
2. Lesser perks and benefits
3. You can't boast about being employed at "Top 10", "Fortune 10", "Blah 10", or such!
4. People blink when you tell them I work at DFG small company
5. You may have to put in longer hours at times - since you own what you do
6. You are down in the dumps one day and the entire world knows it (thats also a nice thing, isn't it?)
7. A S S licking is rampant (Ha! I can't believe I can be so crass but hey that's the fact and I couldn't find any better phrase to say it the way it is)
8. Collective employee morale (Somebody bitches about Anybody and the next day all the friends of Somebody in office hate Anybody!)
9. There's no one to pass on the low level jobs like formatting or cleanup. You got to do it yourself. Sometimes, it gets passed on to you but there's no way you can pass it on to anyone else. But in big companies, there are technical writers to do that kind of stuff :)
10. God save you if some office Romeo takes a fancy to you. Apart from getting teased mercilessly, you have to constantly ensure you don't end up being alone in the lift or corridor with the Romeo.

A trip to Thiruvanamalai

2008-12-28T12:38:00.000+05:30

Like all things in my life, it started as a whim and slowly progressed to almost a fanatic desire. I wanted to go to Thiruvanamalai and right now at that. When I put forth my idea to hubby dear, he was enthusiasm personified. Obviously! Considering how he likes driving his new toy every opportunity he gets. I was more than happy to indulge him (indulge, you ask? Ya ;) ). So we started planning. I “researched” for hours and hours together on the Web – read blogs on others’ trip to Thiruvanamalai, zoomed in and out of Live Maps and Google maps a million times, assembled a big map of the Bangalore – Thiruvanamalai route in Photoshop, and lived and breathed Thiruvanamalai half of my non-sleep hours! After our initial plan to go on last Saturday failed, I was crestfallen. But I quickly gathered my spirits and we decided to drive down on Christmas day.

It turned out to be a fantastic trip that all of us immensely enjoyed. We started at 5:30 in the morning and took the NH7 - NH66 route. Reached Thiruvanamalai at around 11 AM with a half an hour break in between for breakfast. It was a smooth ride until Krishnagiri where NH7 branches off into 2. And there came the first hurdle of the day. Which road to take? After asking the highway patrol police, who seemed to be placed there by divine grace just to give us directions, and ignoring their advice (blame me!), we continued on NH7 a few kilometers. Doubts starting asailing me – I was not sure if the research and the subsequent route I had chartered out had been correct enough! The road seemed to be leading to Dharmapuri!! Finally, I found the courage to tell my by-now-glowering hubby that we got to turn back and go the way the cop pointed out! Oh, the atmosphere inside the car would have melted glaciers, believe me! I decided to keep my mouth shut after that! At least about the route! So after coming back on the NH7 Krishnagiri outpost, we turned on to the Chennai/Pondicherry route. This is the road that turns left from NH7 near the Krishnagiri flyover – you have to take the left road that goes below it. Continue on for a km or so and there are clear signs that indicate the route to Thiruvanamalai/Pondicherry – a right diversion from the Chennai route.

From this point on, the roads are both heaven and hell. Heaven because they are so scenic surrounded as they are by ripe green trees and plants. Hell because the roads are so bad that they don’t let you take your eyes off them to enjoy the scenery! It’s sure bad for the driver at least, as hubby put it. The rest of us were happy enough clicking away to glory save for the jumpy ride now and then. Oh, ya, I almost forgot to mention - though there isn’t much traffic, you have to watch out for the country-buses which believe the entire road to be their property. We saw an Alto that was almost pushed to the extreme side of the road by a speeding bus! And watch out for those I-can-give-the amusement-parks-a ride-for-their-money-potholes! The road doesn’t improve much until Chengam though there were freshly laid stretches of tar in-between. We stopped at a nice deserted spot for breakfast and then continued on to Thiruvanamalai. Found a decent parking place adjacent to the temple wall and we were happy! I, for one, had thought it will be difficult to get a parking space near temple and was feeling blessed. Least did I know what was in store for us at the end of the day. More about that later.

As soon as we entered the temple, we were awestuck by the grandeur of the gopurams. Man, there were so many of them.

After standing in the queue for what seemed like over 2 hours (being a holiday), we finally had our darshan and came out both tired and elated. Kid was happy having seen Monkeys and their babies. We were happy to find a Sweet Lime Soda pushcart waiting to serve the exhausted devotees right inside the temple!! After having our fill, off we went to the next item on our agenda. The Girivalam - Circumambulation of the Arunachala hill. Usually it’s done by feet but considering that we planned it to be a one day trip and having a kiddo in tow, we decided to do it on four wheels!

We reached our car and were dreading getting inside it what with the sun having been directly blazing over it, when we got an even more rude shock. Our front tire had gone flat! Hubby almost fainted. His new toy and god how can this happen to us? When we pulled in to park, everything was perfect. So what would have gone wrong? We had no time to waste and luckily found a tire shop very close by. We were thanking our stars that there was one so close by when the owner of another parked car in the same line came over and said that even his tire had gone flat. Ha! hold on now, do we smell a rat here? even his tires were in good condition when he pulled in and by the time he came back it had gone flat. Now, it can happen to one car, but to both? And both of them being the only KA (Karnataka) vehicles in that line…. ha, something fishy indeed! This was almost proved when the mechanic pronounced that nothing has happened to the tire – somebody has just let the air out. Hmm, somebody was playing some bad pranks. Very bad. Maybe even the mechanic shop people. Who knows? It would definitely be a good business model. Coincidentally, on our way back after Girivalam to the temple, we saw another KA Mercedes noisily sledging the road with a flat back tire!

We did not want to dwell on it too much. But I did think about alerting somebody – but who? As tourists usually do, we continued on way to Girivalam. We found all the 7 lingams easily except for the Indira Lingam – which seemed to be off the main roads. We even took a nice lunch break at a wayside bull temple.

It had become almost 6:30 by the time we reached back to the temple from where we planned to retrace our steps to NH66 to Chengam. Since Thirukovilur, the next item on our agenda is a good 35 km away and it wouldn’t have been possible to return back the same day if we had gone ahead, we dropped that part of the plan and headed back home to Bangalore.

The trip back to Bangalore seemed to be the longest one we had. All of us were tired and sleepy. More so, hubby dear who did not have a back-up driver in any of us. Imagine! We had got up at 3:30 in the morning to cook/pack our breakfast and lunch! Just the stretch between Krishanagiri –Hosur- Bangalore took us over 3 hours! Seems hubby almost fell asleep lulled by the hypnotic highway lane lights. So he decided to play safe and keep the average speed to 50 at the cost reaching home faster with a possibly nasty experience on the way. We reached home dot 12 in the night. Ha, it did not turn out to be a one day trip after all :)

We were a happy lot. And I cannot be more contented that my whim has been satisfied. Ha, the pleasure of seeing your desires come true. :)

The route we took:
Bangalore – Hosur – Krishnagiri – Uttangarai – Chengam - Thiruvanamalai

What we planned to do:
We had planned to visit Thiruvanamalai, do the Girivalam, then drive down further South 35 km to Thirukovilur to see two more ancient temples and wrap up the trip with a short visit to Manalurpet (another temple) on the way back to Bangalore via Thiruvanamalai. That was the plan. But unfortunately, we couldn’t go to Thirukovilur or Manalurpet. Perhaps next time!

Other sources that will help if you are planning to trip to this place:
Ravi’s account of his trip to Thiruvannamalai
Team-BHP forum discussion on possible routes
Wiki on Thiruvanamalai
“Official Website” of the temple
Another nice Website for information on this place that also provides the temple events calendar, info on nearby places, etc
Girivalam route map

The pictures from the trip are in the sidebar including the map I made from Microsoft Virtual Earth. Enjoy!

Stop failing us, you morons!

2008-12-19T10:57:00.000+05:30

I've always felt that exams and rankings are way too over-rated. For heaven's sake, how does it matter if you get the first rank or the last rank? Most often than not, being evaluated, compared and ranked lower than their friends make kids more depressed and at times even reluctant to try competing anymore.

I was fortunate enough to have parents who did not care much about me getting the first rank in class. Yes, they did praise the first-rankers and gave me not so subtle hints that they would have liked a child who came first in class but they never pressurized me really. Or maybe it was just my attitude of not giving anything too much of a damn. So I grew up a happy child who never minded being ranked 10 or in the worst case 16 in a class of 40. But there were others who were not so fortunate. They were taunted and ridiculed by parents, teachers, and friends alike for not studying as well as they should. Never mind they were good at something else. Slowly, these guys who were "average" to begin with became "dull" and even "failed" and were retained in the same classes while the friends of the same age progressed to higher classes.

Not anymore. There is now hope. A new Right to Education bill has been introduced in the parliament that forbids schools to fail children under class 8. What a fantastic way to ensure children get enough time to gear up and get on par with their peers without the impending axe of failure. I hope the bill gets passed!

You can read more about the bill here.

Readying for take off!

2008-12-17T12:44:00.000+05:30

I have been thinking about doing my own thing for quiet sometime now. It started around one and half years into my first job after MBA. I quit with just one offer in hand. I joined the next company, worked for a day, and literally ran out of the place in the evening with no intention of returning back ever. Maybe I was hasty but I sure wanted to heed my intuition when it said get out right now. I called up the guy who hired me the next day morning and gave him a cock and bull story about shifting my base to Paris because my husband got transferred! Ha! Ha! Ha! I don’t think he really believed me. No one would have! But he let me go easily enough. Thank god! And then I realized because of my own impulsive compulsive need to quit my first employer fast and then my “intuition” with the second one, I was now stranded with no job or offer in sight. Jeez, did regret my decisions or what? I sat at home the next three months, unemployed, newly married in a new house, with a busy husband, and slowly went out of my mind. Thankfully, I got a job before I went completely mad!

The next one and half years went blissfully. Well almost. And then, boom! I started getting itchy again. Woa! What is this with me? The same story repeated! Yes, believe me you. The same fast paced resignation, cajoling my manager to relieve me fast…. and the entire works. But unlike last time, I stuck to the next company I joined and did not pay heed to any voices. You see, now I am a little more experienced at sorting out the voices of my head. So here I am, few months into a new job and already feeling the itch  For heaven’s sake, none of these jobs seem to fit me properly! Either the managers lie about the job description or I get disillusioned with my own role! So I got thinking………..

What is the remedy for my itch? Quit working, stay at home, take up gardening, some community work if possible, and have a blast! Yes? No! Unfortunately, I don’t think that will work. In fact, even if it works, am not sure I will be happy with it. I got to work. But at my own terms, in my own time, as my own manager. Yeppe! That will sure make me happy. So here goes my attempt at being self-employed. I am wary to use the “E” word just yet. Maybe I will muster up enough courage and strengthen my idea enough by next year but not right now. I am content to have a goal to become self-employed first before going all the way to being an “E”.

So here I have the plane (idea), the website (runway), and the fuel (energy and time) ………….. now I just got to figure out how to get my plane to take off! Wish me safe travels!

Oh btw if you are interested, u can maybe take a look at my idea here? And let me know what you think of course.

A fresh start

2008-12-10T12:12:00.000+05:30

Yep, thats what's this is going to be. I've got all the right reasons - new year, birthday, idle time in hand...

So what better way than to get back to my first blog and start blogging all over again? Hopefully, this time around I will muster up enough enthusiam to keep it going regularly. And obviously since am older and wiser now, this blog shall serve it's true purpose of being just my writing pad and nothing else. No frills, no false make-overs, no preening, no PR. No siree, absolutely not :) I hope.

All the old content of this blog has been moved to my other blog which I have choosen not to link from here for obvious reasons. While that will be my "non sense" version, this one here will be the "sense" version!

Even after death

2008-09-09T17:29:00.000+05:30

It was dark. But not so dark that you can’t see. He gets up from his bed and moves towards the window and lifts the curtain to peek around. Slowly. Very slowly.

Would she be here today? Will she dance like she did the other time? wondered Rue.

It was totally accidental. There was a power cut and Rue couldn’t sleep that night. The hot air combined with the musky smell that lingers long after the cleaning lady leaves makes the room unimaginable without the constant drone of the ceiling fan. He had got up to open the windows and let the sea breeze in. Little had he known what awaited him the other side of the window. And he was hooked after that.

It became a ritual, power cut or otherwise. He would wake up at 12 every night and move towards the window. Slowly lift the pretty hand stitched curtains that were once his mom’s pride and gaze down at the garden. Some days she is there and some others she is not. On the days that he finds her, she usually dances around the bushes picking the flowers or fruits that had fallen on the ground and stacks them in the corner.

Papa always thinks it’s the work of the musk-scented lady and uses it as an opportunity to talk to her, thank her and of course touch her. He thinks Rue does not notice but Rue does. Rue can very well see that his papa’s damp hands on the cleaning lady’s shoulders actually wish they were a little lower. He had seen Papa staring at the lady’s chest on many occasions. Even when mom was around. Mom had not minded. Rue had. He does. He hates the cleaning lady.

On this particular night, she is not there. In fact, Rue had almost given up hoping to see her again ever since last month’s incident. On that day, Rue had been foolish enough to call out to her. One look at Rue and she just vanished. Vanished into thin air. Rue wished he hadn’t done that. But he had been so sad and so delighted - both at the same time. He had wanted to feel her arms around him once again. Have her kiss him one last time. Snuggle against her breasts and feel like a baby again. Oh, if only…

Stepping up his courage, Rue moves away from the window towards the door. Should he go down to the garden? Maybe she is hiding somewhere waiting for him to find her. That had been their favorite game after all. Playing hide & seek around the banyan trees.

The garden at this hour does not seem to be a friendly place. It hardly resembles the bright cheerful place of his memories. There are dark corners that seem to be arbouring evil things. The wind moving in and out of the banyan roots create a strange symphony almost like distant human whispers.

Rue picks up his nerve and steps into the middle of the yard. He calls out. Once, twice more. Nobody responds. He turns away dejectedly. He better go to sleep – he has a maths test to give tomorrow morning.

Wait. Was that his name? Is somebody calling his name? Nah. Imagination. He climbs the final steps into the house and closes the door quietly. After reaching his room, all he is able to do is fall on the bed and sleep which is weird. One would have expected him to cry. Cry like only a ten year old can. For his mom. But strangely Rue feels good. He nods off with a silly smile on his face.

Below, unseen by Rue, she dances. She smiles and she knows that she will always be there for Rue. Even if he can’t see her. Moms have an intense love towards their children and a fierce need to protect them at all times. Sometimes even after death.

Six months down the lane....

2008-09-08T16:56:00.000+05:30

I am going to quit regular work.
Setup an office for myself at home complete with broadband, hi-fi laptop, refreshments, and such.
Start my own freelance sales support services business to be named "blah blah services" (am kidding! about the name!)
Browse the Internet all day long without any restrictions.
Participate more actively in social events (including photowalks, unconferences, barcamps, etc, etc.)
Live life my way which means sleep when I want, go out when I want, play with kid when I want. Like right in the middle of a Monday.

Period.

And the reason am articulating it here is obvious - I want to commit it to myself. I want to crystallize the thoughts and give them the energy that only belongs to the written word.

"Oh, ye Intention of mine
Written you are now
No escapes, no blaming lunacy
Like it or not, you are stuck
So you better materialize"

Bliss

2008-09-05T13:55:00.002+05:30

(Continuation of "Waiting for pain")

My first impressions of the room were of its brightness and tidiness. I felt like a queen of the olden days - being transported in a royal carriage. Only, the royal carriage has changed now but everything else remained the same. I still was the chief guest here. And the people in the room were waiting for me expectantly.

As soon as I was carried in, everybody rose including the all in white lady in the corner. She seemed to be one who was most looking forward to see me. The white clad lady came near and told me un-assuringly, "if only you had got the pain earlier". I became confused. What did that have to do with anything? And for heaven's sake, how long should I endure? Can't they get it over with as soon as possible? All that mattered now is the pain. Nothing else. Not the baby. Not my life. Just pain. Get it over with. Period.

"Nope! not possible. The other players of the game are out doing god knows what but we can't begin till they are here. Please wait", says the lady in white.

What seemed like a million years passed but in reality was just a few minutes. Then....

"Good Morning there, how are you doing today", came the booming voice of another white clad male form.

What a dolt. What a seriously stupid idiotic dolt. How does he think I should be doing? Please....... I have no patience. Will you get on with whatever you came in here to do?

"Sure, alright now curl up like a baby and turn over to your side, will you?.... ya, nice and slow.... good..... no, no, curl more, come on you can do it...your knees should touch your chest..."

What the heck. What the heck man? Am I training for some curl up contest here? I am more than ten months long and my tummy resembled a mini elephant and this dolt expects me to curl up so that the knees touch my chest. What a seriously idiotic dolt. Really.

He didn't wait. For my knees to touch my chest. Before I knew it, there was a blur of activity, and a needle which I can only imagine to be the size of a hose pipe was poked into the center of my spinal cord.

"COME ON, MOVE. MOVE. Lie down straight. Turn back. Come on. Quick. Quick. Quick."

Man, what has got into him now? If he wanted me to turn back so quickly, why have me trying for a knee chest fusion? I didn't know how to react. The most obvious would have been of course to turn. But the brain does tend to go into a freeze in the face of such high power commands. Especially if comes from a towering white masked face. A second passed. And another.

"MOVE".

This time the command was not directed at me. The three nursing/medical students around me got into action and before I knew it, I was on my back again. And all of this must have taken five or a maximum of six seconds. In all this excitement, I had forgotten the pain. The damn pain. Oh, there it is agai.........

Bliss. Oh man, I didn't know bliss felt like this. oh........

"You could have done this earlier", I muttered deliriously. The anesthetist just smiled back in answer. Now don't ask me if I can see thru his mask. I just knew he smiled. And if he didn't, he should have.

"Hi there", came a gentle voice.

"This is the pediatrician" introduced the friendly giant dolt.

I don't know why but suddenly I started thinking of him as my friend. Not everybody on earth can give you bliss. This one did to me and now he is a friend. Just like that. I smiled back at him hoping to get back into his good books. Can anesthetist read the minds of the people they anesthetize? Or worse yet, do the anesthetized start blabbering all their thoughts? I hope not…

I continued floating in the realm of white clouds and pleasure with but just a dull awareness of the present.

And then I started blabbering.

But the docs didn't seem to be paying attention. Another white lady joined the group and everybody rubbed their hands in anticipation. Probably they list abdomen cutting as part of their hobbies. Good for me.

What felt like a cold swab of alcohol rubbed against somebody's rubberized skin. Oh, no, not somebody else, it must be mine. But I don't feel it. Then how come I know it…? Whatever. Don't' ask too many questions.

I opened my eyes a little deciding to discover the world outside bliss. A nurse put up a plastic curtain between me and the ladies standing by my hips.

"Don't. Don't do that. I want to see it.", I said.

"It is just to protect you. You know, all that blood splashing on your face will not be nice", came the reply.

Oh ya, I wouldn't want the first thing my baby sees to be my bloody face.

My eyes moved here and there as if they are not attached to their sockets. They decided to linger on the high-beam focus lights on the top providing illumination to the people cutting the abdomen below.

Hey. Hold on. Hold on. I can see it. Yuuuuuuu…….. I can see the docs cutting the abdomen below reflected in the side polished mirror surface of the lights. Wow! How cool is that? I can watch myself getting operated. Wow!

Should I? What if I faint or something? Come on, that is ridiculous. I can't faint. Not with anesthesia. In fact, it's downright impossible to faint if you have been given anesthesia and partially kept awake. Ok, that's solved then. And I am also not the puking time (Did I tell you that I puked all of 3 times during the ten months pregnancy? And those 3 times were because either I overate or I ate very less. Not because of pregnancy related nausea!). Which all means I can watch it. Yo! It would be oh so cool to tell the others that I watched my abdomen being cut open and the baby being taken out. Wow! I just can't get over it.

Hey, wait. Hey eyeballs of mine, wait. WTH. What do u think you are doing? Are you my eyes or somebody else's? Who is the master here? I said who is the master here? Stop roaming around and get back to those lights NOW. Stop it….

The rebellious eyes didn't listen. They just closed down. Can you believe that? Your own eyes not listening to you?

I could hear the docs talking somewhere inside a drum. A drum that must have been kept 10 kilometers away. Then I remembered something. Oops, I better tell them now before I forget.

"Docs, can you please show the baby as is to me? Fresh from my womb with the blood, vernix and all, please. No washing", I commanded.

I think they agreed. Because the next thing I know is the doc saying "Ha, there it is".

I had to ask it. Though I knew it would be a boy. "Which one is it doc, boy or girl?"

"Girl"

What?????????? WOWWWWWWWWW. Amazing.

I was the happiest person on earth at that moment. Believe me you. And I don't think I will ever be happier than that in my life. Ever.

It was such a wonderful surprise to get a girl baby after ten months of believing it to be a boy. Don't ask me why I thought it will be a boy. Just suffice it to old wives tales.

The sweet Pediatrician got her close to me, and we kissed. Not the pd and me, dolt! The baby and me.

He had her give me a kiss right on my lips. J I tasted salt and I tasted what will turn out to be a million more happy moments in life after that. My baby was finally here. Healthy and unaffected after all those struggles in the womb.

"Why do all women cry when they see their baby for the first time", murmured the pd. I couldn't murmur back anything in reply.

Bliss.

Edited to add: First two parts here and here.

A million reasons

2008-08-20T09:31:00.000+05:30

I cry because I grew up too fast and I can never be a child again
I cry because I can never bawl like a kid in front of the entire world
I cry because there’s no one to wipe away the tears
I cry because nobody notices the damp pillows in the morning
I cry because there are a million more reasons to cry

Photo series I : Birds

2008-08-06T17:17:00.000+05:30

Here's one of my most favorite bird in the world. The Green bee eater. I just adore them! They are so beautiful....... have a look at some of the pics I was able to take.

The Green Bee eater

Remembering Grandpa

2008-07-28T15:09:00.000+05:30

(Continued from the previous post)

Come summer holidays, me and sister packed up our gears and headed to Perumbur. My grandpa’s and cousins’ place. The days were heady playing all day, and the nights a little scary without mom around. But in one word, it was fantastic. So many of my life’s small milestones were achieved in Perumbur. Learning to cycle, learning to play cards, learning to make milk koa, learning to make lime juice, learning to tickle-play, learning to live without mom around, learning to lookup rahu-kalam, learning to sing, learning to believe in religious things, learning to believe in supernatural goddess and their appearances, learning to watch frogs, learning to plant roses, learning to ……….. so many things :) Did you read the post about gardening? I now remember that the foundation of my gardening started in my grandpa’s house. My grandpa’s house was an individual house (meaning not an apartment or something similar) that stood surrounded on three sides by gardens with all kind of plants, bugs and things. So no wonder that I got hooked to gardening at a relatively young age.

So what do I remember of the times I spent with my thatha? In no particular order, and no thought to readability, here goes…

Hiding behind my mom, scared to look at the tall tall man who she called appa
Envying my cousins and sister who enjoyed a jovial familiarity with him which I could not
The reverence, respect, and at times the fear with which the others treated him with and spoke about him
Playing cards all day long – In fact, I learnt to play cards sitting under his chair. He was one who taught all of us to play and the mean old devil always said “even if you put sand as your next drop card, am sure to win!”
Learning to swear like a sailor :) When the game of cards did not go to his liking, my thatha always let forth a slew of curses and bad words which we the young kids were only all too ready to pick up. We used to memorize those words, and wait for the right opportunity to ask an elder for its meaning. Man, when they heard us kids uttering the words with glee, they sure had an heart attack!
When someone had the misfortune to commit a wrong act or say the wrong thing, he/she fell under the nasty tongue of my thatha. I loved watching him curse them with a wicked pleasure that am sure no kid should enjoy
Waiting for him to command my ammama to make sweets for us kids
Watching cricket with him and getting bored to tears
Sometimes, due to his inability, he depended on others to feed him or give him his drink. At times, that “others” became me. It was usually coffee – and oh god, I used to be so scared. I used to take the cup till his mouth, tilt it a little, and pour a spoonful very carefully into his open mouth. Splutter will come an expletive. “Enna ma, you are feeding me as if I am a dead thing or a young baby, tilt and pour more for heaven’s sake, will you” he used to say. Or “what the **** is this? It tastes like cat’s pee! Can’t you bring it when its real hot?”
The interrogation of our report cards, how we are studying, what we wanted to become in life…… you get the drift
I used to get so incensed when he spoke ill about my paternal grandparents
The many tales he used to regale us with. He had a dramatic way of narrating things and usually he told us incidents from his life and duties when he was an employee at Railways. His recollections of his father and mother and his family while he was young. The days when he could afford everything they needed for the month under one rupee…
Oh yes, how can I forget? The one thing we really really looked forward to when we went to his house was the money he used to give us. Without fail, we used to get a hundred rupee note – oh, how we used to treasure that. Sometimes, he handed out smaller sums asking us to buy ourselves cakes and chips.
Helping him do his exercises and physiotherapy
Watching chithi help him with bathing, and other activities
Feeling sad for him
He always used to wait for us at the gate when he knew we were coming. And when he sees the auto stop in front of the gate, he used to call out in a booming voice, “va ma kanna”
Envying him his green eyes – and scolding my mom for not inheriting his eyes and passing it on to me!
His advice to always be independent, not depend on the husband, and save for the rainy day
And so many more things……… I guess I can keep writing till the day ends

Sadly, when we grew up, we spent less and less time at his house. Instead of every other month, it became once in six months, and more recently, almost once a year. In fact, the last time I saw him was over a year ago when I had gone to show him his great grand daughter (my kid). He seemed very happy. And he finally realized that I had made something for myself and had not wasted my life. I could finally spot a bit of respect in his eyes for the life I had made for myself. I proudly told him about where I work and what I do and he was like “ahaaaaaaam, that’s good”.

I think we will miss him. When we go to Perumbur now, we will have no one waiting at the gates for us. No one around to fear and dread. No one to learn expletives from. No one to play cards with. No one to tell us tales.

We will miss him.

An ode to my grandpa

2008-07-28T14:02:00.000+05:30

The day began like any other ordinary day in the mundane life of just another normal person in the world. I went about the daily stuff with the usual worries over stupid things that really matter not. And when I received a call from my sister, I cut the call thinking that I will call her back to save her the few coins. After all, right now at this stage of life, I can afford them more than her. The first clue that all was not well was when I tried calling her back after a minute and found her phone engaged. Mentally chiding her for her lack of patience, I kept my phone down only to pick it up right back when she rang again. Ha! Persistent sister! I picked up the call looking forward to her cheerful hello and perhaps a hour long talk to soothe the souls. Her first few words shocked me into silence. My first reaction, unlike what you might expect which is usually disbelief, was a strange acceptance. Govindachari thatha passed away this morning di, cried my sister. The phone can be so inadequate at most times, and this time it was really over the top.

I remember my thatha as an authoritative and arrogant man who probably always stood out in the crowd, his demeanor only accentuated by his light green eyes – a rarity in this part of the world. He was my maternal grandpa, a strong guy until his fifties when he suddenly met with a serious accident that damaged his spinal cord. A freak accident really – he had gone shopping that day to bring in some veggies for a special Sunday lunch, when an immature young kid lost control of his bike and rode it straight over him. First degree spinal damage. Complete immobility – total loss of hand control and a moderate loss of leg control. The arrogant strong man succumbed to a dreary life bound to the bed and chair.

He had worked all his life in the Southern Railways, a so called lucky central government employee. He climbed his way in the corrupt ladder to eventually retire as a senior level officer. It was the first weekend after his retirement I think (not sure) – the fateful day of the accident – and the family wanted to celebrate it with a special lunch. Not to be. He ended up confined to his bed, and would have stayed there for the rest for his life if not for his rigorous self-control and discipline. With the help of physiotherapy, exercises, and his younger daughter, he eventually regained control of his legs and could move about almost independently. His hands were still frozen like claws due to the nerve damage, but he tried hard to at least eat on his own if not perform other activities. But though he conquered the bed, his home became his jail. He never could regain his youthful strength back to go more than a few steps outside his house.

He had three kids – two daughters and one son. The eldest of the daughter was married to a traditional staunch religious (iyengar) family. The second daughter was married to her mom’s younger brother – who was miles away due to his job – so she elected to stay with her parents while both of them met up only during the weekends. And the son decided to go oversees in pursuit of better opportunities and eventually became a green card holder and an American citizen. My ammama i.e my grandma, I oh so remember her fondly, is a kind lady who was very devoted to the various Gods, Goddesses, poojas and other rituals. She doted on her grand children, her dominant husband, and in short, her family. I think she was content with just those two – family and Gods. No other life. I don’t think I can ever ask her questions such as “were you ever discontent with the life you choose”. So I will never know for sure.

The younger daughter sacrificed her life, and remained with her handicapped father – she looked after all his needs and he her children’s. My grandpa taught, preached, inspired, and guided the life of her two children both of whom later grew up to be reasonably admirable individuals in the society. It was his way of paying back for the relentless care she bestowed on him.

As is bound to happen, old age caught up with everyone. He turned eighty few years back and continued to live on. Bitterness started flowing freely – after all how long can you accept being left out of the fate’s “to die” list. It must not have been easy – not at all. It came to a point where he literally wished for death every day am told. It finally decreed to grant him his wish.

He died yesterday, the Sunday, 27th July 2008. After over two decades of life limited by the results of that one fateful day. The reason for his death is not clear – should probably suffice it to just old age, and the weariness of living in the slowly decaying body.

They say that you better not speak ill of the dead and if you must speak at all, speak only the good. So I shall. Though minor thoughts of his arrogant actions creep up from the young corners of my mind, I shall endeavor to paint only the best picture of him here, as I hope I have done so far.

As mentioned previously, he was an arrogant man – but kind I think. I do not remember much, if at all anything, of him before his accident. Those memories are very dull & weak and not to be relied upon. So I shall leave them be. Instead, let me pull out the stronger ones out and describe them here for posterity’s sake.

Though I couldn’t go down and pay my respects to the old man (due to the choices I have made in life, I have been rendered 380 kilometers away from the family I was born into), I have my own sadness. It is nowhere near to my mom’s, chithi’s and others. I was never close to him. I was more attached to my paternal grandparents. But like all grandparents, whichever side they belong, time does make them fond to you over the years however bad you might have perceived them to be while you were young. So, I remember my grandpa fondly. And when I recollect the happy summer days at my cousins’ place, he is the hero who rules over those memories.

So here’s to the central figure of all my memories of summer holidays. Grandpa, I cannot say that I loved you. I cannot say that I will miss you. But what I can say is, you did make to a difference in my life though I know not the magnitude of it. And for those times, however small they were in time’s measure, you were my hero. The hero who I imagined fighting all the corrupt bad guys. The guy who had to struggle against all odds. In retrospect, I do feel like murmuring those inadequate three words. I loved you.

I do hope you learnt all the life lessons you needed to learn in this incarnation and your soul is finally lighter for it. I feel happy for you, grandpa. You succeeded and brilliantly at that. I hope you are where you now need to be. To the lifetime you led, and the memories you have left behind in everybody’s mind……………

Please know that you were important.

To be continued.